


Our Devoured Minds

by tari_roo



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Danny "Danno" Williams, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Team, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tari_roo/pseuds/tari_roo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Our Devoured Minds Part 1/8

Author: Tari_Roo

Rating: PG (Gen)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Steve would be bare-chested even more than he is, we would actually ‘see’ Danny trying to surf and Kono would be a secret Cylon. That is all. Wait… Chin would be as awesome as he is.

Summary:  Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny. 

Spoilers: None, but you kinda have to know the show, ok?

Saturday Morning

Steve nearly didn’t hear the opening bars of his ringtone, but the tune sounded so familiar that he automatically patted his back pocket for his phone, belatedly realized it was not in fact there, and that he’d left his phone on the kitchen counter. Slamming the door open, Steve caught his phone just as it was about to vibrate itself into the sink of dirty dishes. Not bothering to check caller ID, he thumbed the call and barked, “McGarrett!”

His mind was still half on the Mercury in semi-working condition outside, so the quiet, small, ‘little’ voice on the other end didn’t quite register until the second sentence. “Is Danno there?”

“Grace?”

“Uncle Steve?”

Two things clicked into place immediately, as Steve gripped the phone tightly. First, Grace sounded scared, terrified. Her breathing was sharp and fast, and McGarrett could practically hear her heart pounding. Second, Danny wasn’t answering his phone, because there was no way that ‘Uncle Steve’ was her first call if something was wrong.

“Grace? It’s Steve, what’s...”

“Is Danno there? I can’t ... he’s not...” Panicked, so close to tears breathing on the other end, as Grace struggled to talk. Little girl scared did all sorts of crazy things to a guy’s stomach, triggered something ‘urgent’ even in the most non-paternal man and Steve was moving, grabbing his truck keys, “Grace, Danny’s not here. What’s wrong? I’m ...”

“Someone’s here, men.... I’m hiding... where’s Danno?” 

The ‘I’m terrified, help!’ was non-verbalized but so very audible and Steve slammed the front door shut and ran towards his truck. Not wasting with futile questions around where Rachel was, or why Grace was alone, McGarrett reassured Grace, “I’m on my way, Grace. Stay hidden. Did you see who the people where, how many?”

Grace’s breaths echoed through the line and she gasped brokenly, trying to brave, calm but failing, “Mia answered the door and ... and they had guns. I ran. Danno says always run, and hide and wait for him. But he’s not answering, Uncle Steve. He’s not answering.”

Yeah, that was freaking Steve out as well, as Danny always answered Grace’s calls. Always. Starting the engine with a roar, Steve tore down the road, the truck over-revving as he gunned the shift change. Flipping his phone to hands free, Steve kept one eye on the road, as he texted Chin ‘Track Danny’s cell’ and said calmly, “How many men, Grace?”

“Two... three... maybe. I ran. I... I ... need....” ‘Danno’ was a swallowed sob, as Grace lost her voice to tears, tiny shuddering breathes sending gooseflesh down Steve’s spine.

Swerving around a slow moving car, Steve nodded and growled calmly, “I know. I’m checking on your Dad, Grace. And I am sure he’s ok ... just... “ A squeak of terrified dismay cut Steve off and he nearly crossed into oncoming traffic as Grace went quiet. Picking up the phone, ignoring the text message from Chin, Steve listened to the thready, frightened breathing on the other end. Quietly, hoping she’d hear, Steve hissed, “I’m nearly there, kiddo, nearly there. Just stay still and very quiet.”

No response, but seconds later another small squeak and then in the background, a deeper voice indistinct, but someone else hushing them. “Gracie,” Steve whispered, “stay real still and quiet, kay?” He could hear her nodding, trembling and McGarrett shoved the accelerator flat, even though it was already flat out. Over the whining trail of horns and screeching tires behind him, Steve strained to hear anything through the phone, voices, footsteps, anything. But all he could hear was Grace... breathing. An old red ford nearly cut him off, its driver hurling abuse out of the window, but Steve caught the change in breathing, the hitch in her chest, tears welling, sobs building. “Grace...”

“They’re gone... in the hall, heading for Mom’s room. Danno...Uncle Steve...” 

His stomach was doing all sorts of flips and dives, and McGarrett swallowed as he reassured her, “Hang tight, kiddo. Nearly there.”

Only he wasn’t, he was still a good fifteen minutes away and fifteen minutes was a hell of a long time for a little girl alone in her home, with armed men, home invaders, who knew. Flipping open the text from Chin and nearly sideswiping an old battered Jeep, Steve glanced at the words. ‘Phone off. 911?’

He texted back, ‘Rachel’s house. B&Ws. NOW!’

“Grace?” Checking she was still there, hadn’t dropped the phone, or the call, or something worse but she sobbed in reply, voice thick with tears and fear, “I can hear them... coming back.” Steve mumbled something reassuring as he tore through a red light, narrowly missed a bus and finally turned into Rachel’s neighborhood.  “Grace, I can see your house, you hang tight!”  
He couldn’t and she didn’t reply besides a mumbled litany of pleas for Danno and her Mom. Her time was running out, as the men weren’t stealing or ransacking, they were looking. Looking for either her or Rachel and since Rachel wasn’t home....

“Steve!” A whispered scream, bitten off, desperate and McGarrett nearly took out a row of post boxes as he cut a corner sharply, and left tire tracks on a few lawns. On the other end of the phone, there were deep, male voices in the background and then suddenly the house was in view, the massive gates wide open. Steve drew his sidearm even as he jumped the curb, and scraped the gate as he roared in. A black SUV, motor running, was idling in the drive, poised for a getaway. As he leapt out of the truck, the driver of the SUV stepped out and opened fire. The shot was wild, flashing over McGarrett’s head but Steve’s aim was true, one shot to shatter the window, the second plunging into the shooter’s shoulder, dropping him. 

The guy was screaming, rolling on the ground as McGarrett ran over. A local guy, with wannabe Samoan gang tats. Some pissant looking to make a name for himself. Steve kicked the gun away and yelled, “How many? Who are they?”

All he got was a mouthful of Samoan curses and a shaky middle finger and Steve wasted two valuable seconds wondering if he should cuff the kid before running inside. He did cuff him, to the door handle and then ran into the house, back to back with the heavy wooden door. Mia, the housekeeper, was unconscious on the polished wooden floor, an angry bleeding wound on her forehead. The house was quiet, and Steve risked putting the phone to his ear. Grace was still breathing, still there. Scanning the upper floor, the open doors to the bedrooms and upstairs den, Steve watched for movement, a shadow, a sound. 

Nothing.

The surge of adrenalin coursing through him was tainted by fear for Grace, that maybe the breathy echo on the phone was actually muffled, captured, hostage breathing, that he’d missed something whilst dealing with the driver, and that was ... unacceptable. Steve edged around the door, trying not to expose himself to a shooter from the ground or upper level. It was a little too quiet, and after the gunshots, they knew he was here and were probably waiting for him. Two or three shooters, unknown positions and McGarrett stared at his phone, ended the call and licked his lips. 

As he stepped out into the foyer , a shot came from the hall leading to the main bedroom and a second came from the open space of the kitchen. Two brief glimpses of black clad men, muzzle flashes , but Steve had already cleared the foyer, hurdled Mia and was on the stairs, heading for Grace. The twist in the staircase gave him a brief angle on the first shooter and it was all he needed. It wasn’t a clean shot, but enough to drop the guy, who fell out of sight in the passage leading to the main bedroom. 

  
The man in the kitchen was moving as well, heading straight for him. He ran right into Steve’s line of fire and ~~he~~ went down with one head shot. “Shit!” The man fell in a spray of blood, as he’d been moving quicker than McGarrett had expected. The head shot was a mistake, unlucky but Steve didn’t have time to worry, as bullets peppered the railing above his head. “Shit.” The man upstairs was down but not out. Was there a third? He threw himself down flat on the stairs, and returned fire.

 Keeping low, Steve waited for an opportunity, trying to keep an eye for any movement behind him. “5-0! Put your gun down. Now!”

As expected, the answer was another round of gunfire, but the moment the perp’s gun clicked on empty, Steve was moving, closing the gap, legs bunching to leap up the stairs two at time. But shooter number three had been waiting for that, and as Steve moved out of cover, he opened fire from the opposite end of the corridor, near Grace’s room. Steve whirled and dropped to the carpet with a thud, firing back even as he fell. He caught the shooter center mass, two to the chest and the man staggered back into the bedroom in a spray of blood. Instinctively, McGarrett rolled to check on the other man and his finger squeezed off a shot before he’d fully processed the sight of the last perp raising a shaky hand, wobbling gun pointed at Steve’s back. 

McGarrett’s shot was wild, plunging into the wall above the man’s head, as he continued to roll to get a better angle. He felt the hot flash of a bullet too close for comfort, and Steve snapped off another wild shot. Luckily for the immediate danger, but unfortunately for later efforts, that last shot knocked the man into the wall, and he slid down leaving a trail of dark, thick blood, smeared across the pale paint. 

Heart pounding in his ears, McGarrett lay stunned for a moment, watching, waiting for someone to move. But all three men were down, and as Steve climbed to his feet, he hissed in surprise and looked down. In the melee of gunfire, a lucky shot, had grazed his thigh and was now burning in real protest at the movement. Shoving that aside, McGarrett flicked a quick glance at the nearest shooter, who was collapsed in an unnatural sprawl against the wall. In the distance, he could hear the sirens of the approaching black and whites. About time. Limping a little, Steve stalked down the corridor, heading for Grace’s room, gun still poised, ready. “Grace?”

The third man was unmoving, a pool of blood growing beneath him, soaked up at the thick pile carpet. “Grace!” Her bedroom was tossed, cupboards open, bed over turned, pink and white blankets on the floor. “Grace!” Nothing. No movement, and as Steve stepped into her room, the warm morning sunlight bathing everything in gold and yellow, his mouth grew dry and tight as he silence deepened, the only sound his pounding heart.

“Grace, it’s Steve. Where are you?”

 “Steve?”

Further away, not in this room, and her voice sounded wet, desperate. Ignoring the flare of pain, Steve ran out of her bedroom, heading in the general direction of her voice, but as he entered the hall, the staircase banister dropping away to the foyer below, where Mia was stirring on the floor, he stopped. Grace was silhouetted in the bathroom doorway, hair wild, face red with tears. He closed the distance to her and she met him with a tight fierce hug. The laundry basket in the bathroom was on the floor, clothes scattered everywhere. 

Grace was shaking, and her arms were wrapped around his waist like he was a lifeline, and Steve was suddenly at a loss as to what to do with his hands. His holster was blocked by her trembling, sobbing frame, and his t-shirt was getting wet, but hell if Steve knew what to do next. And she was pressing right against the bullet graze on his leg. So he did what came naturally. He dropped to his knees, tucked his sidearm into the back of his jeans and wrapped his arms around the sobbing little girl.

“Hey, hey, you’re ok. Are you ok?”

Grace was shaking and nodding her head, now tucked under his chin, her tears trickling down his collarbone. She was still trembling and she was trying to talk through her tears, gulping and sniffing loudly. Steve continued to make what he hoped were soothing sounds, rubbing gentle circles over her back. As much as her crying was unintelligible, one thing was clear. “...Danno.”

The sound of patrol cars pulling into the drive interrupted the moment and Steve scooped Grace up into his arms and quickly walked down the stairs. With her face buried against his shoulder, he hoped she wouldn’t see the aftermath of the gunfight, but she had certainly heard it in action. Danny was going to kill him. Several Officers met him at the door and Steve snapped, “One injured, two dead, one vic with an injury. Kitchen, two upstairs.”

They nodded and Steve walked out into the decidedly less bloody driveway, until he spotted the black SUV, its broken window and bloody driver, who was yelling abuse at the stern faced Officer re-cuffing him. Chin and Kono were pulling up behind his truck, and Steve made for the safety of familiar faces. 

“Boss!”

“You ok?”

Steve nodded briefly and they backed up to let him and Grace past. Kono opened the door of her car and Steve put Grace inside. She reluctantly let go of him, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She beat him to the question of the moment, “Where’s Danno?”

Chin and Kono shared a look and Chin said hesitantly, “He’s not here?”

Both Steve and Grace shook their heads and just as Steve was about to demand intel, Chin continued, “His phone was off, but then it turned on... and it was here, so we thought...”

Instantly Grace started looking around and Steve pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for Danny. A long couple of seconds passed as the call went through and then they all heard a phone ringing. From the black SUV.

Everyone, including Grace, ran towards the SUV. Kono pulled open the side door as Steve barked at the Officers, “You clear the vehicle?” But the car was empty, except for a flashing phone on one of the backseats. It was Danny’s. Steve’s name and number were flashing on the screen and with a curse, McGarrett ended the call. “Damnit!”

Grace was staring at the phone and at her Father’s team in turn, biting her lip, eyes big and red. “Boss...” Kono stammered but  Steve snarled, “We need to check his place out, now.”

They both nodded and Grace stared at him with those damn teary eyes and Steve sighed, “We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

Reluctant to let her out of his sight, especially when they had no idea what was going on, Steve placed a gentle hand on Grace’s shoulder and said, “You stay here with Kono, while Chin and I go look for your Dad...”

“I wanna stay with you.”

“Grace...”

“Danno said I should stay with you. Or Mom. Where’s Mom?” Grace was edging towards hysterical, and Kono smiled calmly at her. “Is your Mom with Stan? We can wait here for her, you and me.”

Grace was shaking her head though and edging towards Steve, grabbing the back of his jeans. “Mom’s with Stan, at a conference, they left this morning. I wanna find Dad...”

Time was too much of the essence, and Steve felt better having Grace within eyesight anyway so he sighed, “Kono. Stay here. See what you can get out of the driver. Chin and I will head over to Danny’s with Grace. We’ll try and get in touch with Rachel.”

Kono nodded, her expression as skeptical as McGarrett felt about taking an eleven year old to a potential crime scene, worse yet, that it would be at her father’s house. But if Danny was in trouble... he’d kick Steve’s ass so hard for putting his daughter in danger.... Shit. As the reality of the situation, the potential situation sunk in, Kono and Chin’s expression said it too, it was a bad idea. 

“Sweetie, maybe it’d be better to stay here with Kono... “

“Is Danno in trouble?”

Tempted to lie, make it not so terrifying for the girl, Steve swallowed and said, “I don’t know, Grace. But Chin and I are going to find out. Stay with Kono, ok?” She wasn’t happy, not by a long shot but Grace nodded. “Ok. Dad said I’m not supposed to get in a car with you anyway. Ever.”

Steve smiled, resisted the urge to ruffle her hair, and nodded, “Probably right too. We’ll be back soon.” Grace nodded, quiet and scared, and so very different from her mouthy, loud and intense father. Pointing at Kono, Steve said stiffly, “And find out why they have the phone, yeah?”

Kono nodded and Steve and Chin ran for his truck, Steve sliding in behind the wheel, ~~and~~  slamming the door shut. Chin shot a concerned look at the bleeding wound on Steve’s leg but McGarrett shook his head. “It’ll keep, come on.”

The drive to Danny’s house was less hurried, less panicked, but no less intense. The possible answers waiting for them were potentially terrifying in their reality. Whilst Steve threaded through the late Saturday morning traffic, Chin tried to reach Rachel, but had to leave several voice mails. And without prompting, he put in a few calls with HPD, querying if any of their relatively short list of enemies were out on bail, or something. As a team, they had handled some pretty big cases but Danny hadn’t been on Hawaii long enough for the list to be impossible to check. But it didn’t have to be something about their cases. The perps had gone after Grace, so maybe it had something to do with Rachel or Stan, or anything....

Once Chin was done on the phone, silence fell on the small space inside the truck, Steve gripping the wheel with both hands and changing lanes rapidly. “The hotel concierge is going to try and get in touch with Rachel. There’s a do not disturb for the conference, but…”

“Yeah, she’d want to be disturbed,” Steve nodded fiercely, cutting off another couple dozen drivers as he screamed onto the bypass leading to Danny’s neck of Honolulu. The rest of the drive was filled with tense silence, as the heavy Saturday morning traffic of shoppers, tourists and those enjoying the day off made the trip longer and all the more stressful.

Finally, Danny’s small condo swam into view in the haze of the morning heat and Steve barely put the park brake on before running for the front door. “Camaro’s still here,” Chin pointed out unnecessarily, the sleek silver metal of the car shiny bright and conspicuous in the drive. The front door wasn’t jimmied, but both McGarrett and Ho Kelly had their guns drawn, game faces on as they opened the door.

Danny wasn’t a neat freak, but he sure as hell wasn’t a slob. His place didn’t look like it’d been ransacked but something had gone down. The bed was a tumble of sheets and pillows, the two chairs near the table knocked over, the soil from an upturned pot plant spilled over the floor. But there was no blood, and no tang of gunpowder in the close confines. “We need to get CSU down here, now. Looks like they took him last night.”

Chin nodded, checking the small kitchenette and sighing, “Neighbors would have called in gunshots or a ruckus, so it was quick.”

“And professional,” Steve nodded, slowly putting his gun away, and pulling out a pair of disposable gloves. Danny’s police issue sidearm was lying on the small, multicolored rug at the foot of the bed. McGarrett checked the clip and chamber. “He didn’t get a shot off, either way.”

Squinting a little at the bright sunlight from the half-shuttered blinds, Steve straightened with a small groan, feeling the pull of the wound, and growled, “We need to pull traffic cameras from this neighborhood, see if we can identify any suspicious vehicles.”

Chin nodded, and shot McGarrett a weary knowing look. Neither of them wanted to verbalize the fear that had blossomed into full blown panic. Danny had been taken in the night. Not early morning, as someone would have seen the attack. And after who knew how many hours, three men had come for Grace. That raised so many questions, it was scary in and of itself. Steve sighed, “Think they were taking Grace as leverage?”

Looking away, at the upturned bed and furniture, Chin shrugged, “Probably.” Unspoken was the understanding that Danny hadn’t given them what they wanted.  Had been the stubborn mouthy SOB they knew and loved. And as much as that was a good thing, that Danny was alive, alive so that Grace could be used against him, it was a worry also. What had he endured to get to that stage, where the kidnappers were resorting to taking his little girl and threatening her? 

“Maybe they are just pressed for time?” Chin offered, pulling out his phone to call in the CSU.

“Maybe,” McGarrett agreed, or maybe it just meant that they just didn’t have a lot of time to find Danny.

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

You see, the thing was, Danny was his own kind of tough. The scrappy kind. The underestimated kind. The New Jersey kind. The kind that carried a pair of knuckledusters and kicked you in the nads so they could reach your ugly mug and whale on you. That kind of tough.

Sure, Steve was all super-SEAL tough, with hardcore skills and a BAMF attitude, but Danny ... Danny had skills too. Not freaky ninja skills, but salt of the earth, school of hard knocks and rough streets skills. 

But shit if right now, Danny didn’t wish he had some of Steve’s scary, military skills on enduring torture and pissing people off enough so that they just gave up and let you go. 

Hell, he’d trade his tie in for one hair-brained, certain to cause heart-failure, poorly thought out but excellently executed rescue. 

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

Continued in Part 2  
[Part 1](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58507.html)   [Part 2](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58887.html)   [Part 3](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/59198.html)    [Part 4](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/60521.html)   [Part 5](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/63751.html)  [Part 6](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/66568.html)   [Part 7](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/69466.html)  


  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

Steve slammed the door to the Interrogation Room shut, half turned and stared at the smooth polished metal surface, his twisted warped reflection staring back at him. His heart was racing so damn fast it felt like he was in the middle of fast paced ten mile run, skin cold, fingers trembling.

_‘Shit, shit, shit.’_

The metal was cool and slick on his forehead as Steve leant forward and cursed again.

“Shit!”

Pain flared as flesh and bone met unyielding metal, but Steve didn’t stop the second punch or the third, slamming his fist into the door – hard. Stopping before he did any real damage, Steve pressed his hand to his mouth, rubbing the skin and bristle, trying to push the surge of emotions away.

‘ _Shit.’_

Shoving off the door, ignoring the pull of the wound in his leg and unable to contain the roar of anger and fear, Steve stalked down the narrow corridor from interrogation, head down, fists clenched.

He stopped abruptly after barely two steps, heart rate sky rocketing when he spotted Grace. She was pressed against the glass door leading back into the common area, staring at him, worrying her bottom lip, eyes huge.

Steve struggled to find the courage to smile, but he did, and managed a weak, bright, sad grin. Slowing his pace, hands open, shoulders relaxed, he gently opened the glass door and smiled, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Man, she had eyes the size of flying saucers. Hair mussed and untidy, half dressed in pjs and an HPD breaker, Grace radiated need – desperate, desperate need and Steve really, really wanted to reach down and give her a hug. Whisper that everything, everyone, _Danno_ , was going to be ok.

Swallowing hard, smile a little more rigid, Steve reached out his hand and Grace quietly took it, wrapping her small fingers through his. “Come on, let’s go check on Kono and Chin.”

It was a short walk into the main area, and Steve felt Grace’s eyes on his face the entire time, her fingers twisting in his, no longer cool but warm and slippery. They had to sidestep a couple of uniformed Officers, and then a fast moving Detective before they reached Kono and Chin at the computer.

Five-0 had been invaded by HPD personnel, all willing and able to assist in finding Danny. And as needed and urgent as that help was, it felt weird having so many people in ‘their’ space. Looking over their shoulders. Questioning. Offering advice. Interfering.

Grace squirmed a little and mumbled something about holding on too tight, and Steve shot her another fixed smile. “Sorry, kiddo. Kono, Chin. What do you have?”

Turning Kono blinked at Grace, gave her a belated smile, and shot Steve a ‘what the hell’ look. Chin barely looked up from the computer interface, sliding information across the screen, opening new data. Steve shrugged, and pulled Grace a little closer and said softly, “Grace, why don’t you go wait in Danny’s office – I know there are snickers bars in his desk drawer, somewhere.”

Grace shook her head, and pressed a little closer to Steve but didn’t quite wrap herself around his leg, but her grip on his fingers tightened. Dropping to his knees, Steve licked his lips and ignored the skip of his heart as Grace stared desperately at him. “Sweetie, please... just go sit in Danno’s office. We’re... we’re working hard to find him, ok?” A bustling female HPD Officer paused on her brisk walk past them, no doubt wondering if Steve needed help with Grace, but McGarrett shook his head imperceptibly and she got the hint. So did Grace.

She stared a little longer at Steve’s face, searching for something, or maybe looking for reassurance but she abruptly pulled her hand free and made her way to Danny’s office. McGarrett watched her go, a spike of guilt jabbing at his stomach, and slowly stood. Kono shot him a worried look, but her attention was on the incoming information, murmuring at Chin. Grace climbed up on to the couch near the doorway, and posted herself as sentinel, watching the bustle of activity, eyes most often returning to him.

“Boss? Steve?”

Swallowing, McGarrett pulled himself away from that lonely, sad, need and turned to Kono. He flexed his hand, the sense memory of little fingers seeking reassurance making his mouth dry and hollow. “Ok, talk to me.”

Chin and Kono were looking at him though, and Chin coughed, “How did the interrogation go?”

The spike of guilt burned into raw anger and Steve snarled, “He lawyered up. From the get go. Refused to talk point blank beyond ‘I want a lawyer’. And With HPD hovering and watching everything, I...”

Kono nodded, her mouth twisted in an unhappy frown. Chin sighed, “Well, at least the CSU team are playing ball. See.” He pointed at the row of mug shots on the computer screen – the four perps from Grace’s house. Three dead, one cooling his heels in interrogation, waiting for his lawyer. Kono tapped the screen and said, “Mani Olekane, former member of the Sami Boys. Pretty clean rap sheet considering he’s been a free agent for years. Has definite links to a few arms dealers, but has kept his nose clean, nothing current.”

Steve glared at the mug shot. “Looks like a kid. I thought he was some wannabe out to prove himself.”

Chin shook his head, “Nah, just a baby faced killer. Smart one too, no real jail time, just lots of suspicious activity. The real interesting thing though is these guys.” Chin pulled the pictures of the dead perps closer and made them bigger. “Herr, Jurgens and Studer. French, Dutch and German respectively. Interpol sent over their files, and they’re pretty much guns for hire. Suspected in corporate kidnappings, no real associations with organized crime, but they are on a several watch lists. Homeland Security would have flagged them had they entered the States on their own passports.”

Steve dragged the pictures from Immigration, the three fake passports and visas used to enter the US. “Well, the fakes were good enough to fool IS. No links to any States based crime syndicates?”

Shaking his head, Chin sighed, “No. Which is why it’s interesting. As far as IS can tell, this is their first time in the States. They flew in on a flight from Tokyo and prior to that had been in Hong Kong.” Kono chirped in, “Worse, there is nothing linking those haole to Olekane. The SVU at Rachel’s place is a rental, booked online using one of the fake passports. And there are no hotel reservations on their aliases or real names.”

“What about the weapons? They couldn’t have brought those with them.” Steve growled, pulling up preliminary, really preliminary ballistic reports. CSU was pulling out all the stops to feed them information asap, but it still took time. Chin frowned, “Clean, all of them. But Olekane has ties to arms dealers, so he would be the likely supplier. But since we don’t even have a known residential address for him, let alone property in his name, we were relying on more intel from the interrogation.”

“So, we got nothing?” Steve snapped, pulling up the traffic camera shots from Danny’s neighborhood, even though he knew what they showed already. Nothing. No black SVU. No suspicious vehicles of any kind. There wasn’t a camera directly on Danny’s street, something Steve intended to remedy immediately, but the surrounding traffic light cameras had revealed nothing.

“Nope,” Kono smiled, even if it was a tiny, hopeful smile.  “We got this.” She double tapped a folder and several grainy pictures appeared. “Staggered snap shots from the car rental desk. See... our dead perps picking up the car.” Kono’s finger danced across the screen, making the stills blink in stop motion movement. “Nothing unusual, until this.” She paused on a single frame. A half blurred piece of hope. The three haole hired guns were walking away from the rental desk and a man had stepped out of the shadows at the entrance, his hand reaching out to them. “We only get two more shots, but...”

Kono pulled those two shots up and the man was suddenly in front of the perps, taking something from them... maybe the keys, it was unclear. And then, the final still – all four of them leaving. The final shot was grainy and blurry, but all four faces were visible, if not clear. Four ‘caucasian’ faces. Steve nodded, sharp, “Not Olekane. Someone else. Did you run facial recognition?”

“We’re trying to,” Chin sighed, “but with the quality of the picture, I wouldn’t pin our hopes on that one. We are running all prints in the SVU though.”

Steve whirled and yelled, “Lieutenant Chou, put a rush on the prints from the SVU, yeah?”

From across the room, Chou nodded, talking on the phone. HPD were running a door to door search on all Sami Boy hold outs and locations. CSU was still on scene at Rachel and Stan’s home and Danny’s. They were always manning the hotline for intel on missing people and running with the various BOLOs. Steve sighed, and rubbed his hands across his face, suddenly exhausted, even though it was still morning, still Saturday, only hours into the day. Unable to stop himself, he glanced at Grace. She hadn’t moved, still draped over the couch, watching them all, biting her lip.

“You get hold of Rachel yet?”

The beat of silence from Chin and Kono twisted Steve’s stomach and as he turned back to them, Chin’s expression was torn with guilt and worry. Kono though, was visibly upset, her mouth open, and she said quietly, “It’s why... I…er. We can’t reach Rachel, Steve. Tried her cell dozens of times. And the hotel where the conference is supposed to be has no reservation for them... or a conference scheduled.”

The twist in his stomach sharpened into desperate fear and Steve knew his face reflected his shock. “What? How... did Grace get it wrong?” Unlikely, the kid was pretty good with information and her mother would be certain that her daughter knew how and where to reach her. “Did you try tracking Rachel’s cell?”

Chin nodded, “Just waiting on the warrant.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest, as usually Five-0 would have just gone ahead and done it. But with HPD not only close by, but accessing the same information, Chin was playing it safe. They all were – even though they couldn’t afford to. Danny’s running arguments about process, correct police procedure and warrants could be ignored when he was the sole voice demanding it. Steve growled, “Do it anyway, we don’t...”

“I did already,” Chin hissed, very deliberating not looking around at the collected HPD officers, “and it’s either off, or...”

Steve slammed his hand onto the computer screen, making it rattle a little, and exclaimed, “Damnit! So other than a blurry fourth suspect, we got nothing and worse news!”

“Fraid so, Boss,” Kono sighed. Chin though pushed on and said, “But we are checking all of Danny’s Jersey cases, and Five-0’s to see if there is a link, someone out on parole... anything.”

Steve nodded in agreement, but that was a lot of information and if Rachel and Stan were missing, maybe it had nothing to do with Danny at all. Or it had everything to do with Danny. “Get an APB out on Stan and Rachel. I’m going to go talk to Grace, just in case she did get the hotel wrong.”

Kono and Chin nodded, but all three of them turned to look at Grace. She was staring right back at them, a yawning chasm in need of comfort and reassurance. Steve pushed off the table, and walked over, feeling like he was heading into a fire fight.

 

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Danny had no idea if Chinese water torture was real, or just an urban legend. Steven probably did. McGarrett probably knew a scary amount of information about torture and interrogation – from both sides of the equation. SERE survival and cracking the tough nut – all contained in one handy mental suitcase courtesy of the Navy.

There was however something dripping, an irregular pitter patter, slow and annoying.

Old Hendricks, a long time Jersey CSU officer had once lectured Danny for two solid hours about the difference between gravitational blood drops and arterial spray, and everything in between. At the time, it had been pretty interesting as he had been a rookie beat cop, keen to learn. By the time murder case number twenty five had rolled around, Danny was his own expert on the blood trails injuries left.

The drip was slowing, petering off, the time between each drop irrational, inconsistent, irregular.

None of the cuts were too deep, too serious. Oh, they hurt like a son of bitch, each and every single damn one, but on their own... nothing really. Piece of cake. A walk in the park. Gravy and biscuits.

A chair scraped nearby, metal on concrete, sharp and piercing. Danny tensed, heart rate climbing, a fresh spurt of adrenalin and sweat surging through him.

“You ready to talk yet, Williams?”

Danny licked his lips, tasted salt and blood. “Go to Hell.”

The air moved, a shift in the space near him, heavy material on thin metal chair, hot breath on his face. “Your little girl tastes like peaches...”

“You touch... “ Danny gasped, and bit his lip as fresh blood welled, warm and sudden on his skin, the cold, smooth scrap of the straight razor at his throat silencing him.

“What did I say about mouthing off, Williams?”

Danny turned his head, ignoring the bite of the blade into his skin, and spat, hoping he hit the bastard, “I’m going to kill you.”

A breath of laughter, low and mean, and then burning agony as the SOB sliced into his shoulder, again. Danny tried not to scream, but it was damn hard when he had no idea where or when the bastard was going to cut him next.

Thick, rough fingers dug into the slice between his top ribs, reopening the wound and Danny bit off a string of curses, trying to pull away, yanking hard on the plastic ties on his wrists. The fingers moved though, pushing harder as he pulled away. The fierce burn of salt was swift and sharp, and Danny groaned a mumbled scream.

“What kind of father lets someone like me take their little girl?” The words were hot in his ear, even through the material of the blindfold, and the SOB’s fingers were still steadily shoving salt into the open wound. “I just want to know one tiny, ridiculous thing and now your daughter is going to suffer for your stubborn idiocy.”

“I don’t f...”

The blow knocked Danny’s head back, jaw aching, ears ringing, tasting more blood. Undeterred, Danny yelled, “I don’t know! I don’t frigging know! You leave Grace the hell alone, or I swear...”

The grip on his throat was tight, and strong, instantly strangling off the threat, his words lost in the haze of pain and growing lack of oxygen. “What did I say about that damn mouth!” Futilely, Danny kicked out, bare feet tied to the metal legs of the chair, his whole body jerking to be free, get air. Long, long seconds passed in a rising panic of need. Danny twisted, pulling on the restraints, bucking in the chair, but the iron fingers cutting off his air were unrelenting, unyielding. The burn of his lungs, desperate for air replaced the burn of salt and deep cuts, and Danny gargled a desperate plea.

Half of him knew the bastard would let go, eventually, but the sick SOB might let him pass out before he did. But half of Danny was screaming for air, desperate to live. Abruptly the iron collar cutting off vital oxygen vanished and Danny collapsed as far forward as plastic ties would allow. Sucking in great gulps of air, coughing and spluttering, head swimming with the rush of oxygenated blood, Danny tried to calm down, get back in control.

He barely heard the scrap of metal, as the SOB’s chair moved but he heard the hissed words, hard and demanding, “Where is Frank Marks, Williams?”

Heart still racing a mile of minute, chest heaving, drenched in adrenalin fuelled sweat, fresh blood trickling down his hands, Danny growled, “I don’t know, you stupid bastard. I. Don’t. Know!”

He expected a blow, another cut, more pain. Instead all he heard was the chair being knocked over and the sound of footsteps walking away from him. A door opened, and blessed fresh air wafted into the stuffy, hot room. The door slammed and the heat returned.

Danny sat perfectly still, pulling on his bleeding wrists, ears straining, heart pounding, a desperate plea on his lips. _‘Please... please...’_

Silence hung over him, a heavy oppressive blanket, a building pressure of fearful expectation.

_‘Please.’_

The scream that echoed through the room, ripped through him, his skin crawling, heart plummeting, stomach rising with nausea. 

“Grace!”

The chair barely moved, its welded legs firm, but Danny screamed as another desperate scream echoed through him. “Grace! NO!”

The last scream was quieter, terrified, desperate and Danny pulled so hard on the ties that for a moment he blacked out, heart pounding harder than it had when he was being choked. “No, no, no, no, no....”

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Steve slid onto the couch next to Grace as she moved to give him some space, twisting to stare at him. His ass had barely settled into the well-worn grooves when Grace burrowed into his side, arms wrapped around herself, skinny legs bent, feet tucked in close. Caught a little off guard, Steve lifted his arm, let her snuggle in closer, and gently hugged her with one arm.

For all of her smiles and lively chatter around Danny, Grace was a quiet, gentle soul. She only really opened up around them when Danny was there, and frankly that was usually the only way she did spend time with the team. She’d laugh at Steve’s jokes only when Danny did. Go and swim with Kono when her Danno nodded it was ok. On her own, she was bright, intelligent and charming, more than able to wrap a group of adults around her finger. Kamekona knew all about that. But usually only when she knew Danny was close, or had given his stamp of approval or reassurance.

“Hey, you doing ok?”

It was a ridiculously stupid question, but the only one that came to mind.

“Did you find Danno yet? Where’s mom?”

Ah. Steve hugged Grace a little tighter and raced to find the words he needed, the right ones, the ones that weren’t going to betray him. “Grace, honey. We’re trying to reach your Mom...”

“She goes to the spa, and they make her turn off her phone,” Grace whispered, not looking at Steve, thank goodness not looking at him. Staring down at the top of her head, noting the mix of natural highlights from the Hawaiian sun, the sheen of her hair, Steve said calmly, “We tried the hotel and ...”

And what, McGarrett? Steve paused, suddenly unable to voice the fear that crawled through him. Grace shuffled and turned her face up to stare at him. Chickening out, Steve sighed, “Which hotel are they staying at, Grace?”

She looked at him for a few seconds, long and hard before digging in her oversized windbreaker and pulling out her pink iPhone. She unlocked it and Steve caught a glimpse of a picture of her and Danny laughing on a beach before she opened the contact list. “Here, Uncle Steve. Today they’re at the Hyatt Regency in Lahaina.” She said the Hawaiian name spot on, better than Danny did at times.

“Did your Mom put the number in your phone?” Steve asked, pulling out his own. Grace nodded and watched him dial the Hyatt. As the call went through, Steve smiled warmly, desperately hoping that somehow... Kono and the HPD had got it wrong.

‘ _Aloha, welcome. Ka’anapali Beach Hotel welcomes you.’_

Steve pulled away, preparing to get up and asked quickly, “Did you tell Kono which hotel or just give her the number?”

Grace shrugged, and said, “The number?”

For the first time that day, Steve’s smile felt genuine, as relief was born, hope blossoming. Maybe. The operator on the other end was patiently waiting for him, and Steve barked, “Do you have the number for the Hyatt Regency, ma’am?”

To her credit, she did and Steve thanked her profusely even as he hung up. Through the window, he waved Kono over, knowing that between Grace’s worry and traumatic morning, and her own, he couldn’t really blame her. The phone on the other end was ringing, as Kono hurried over and Steve felt his heart pick up as another polite, friendly operator answered, ‘ _Hyatt Regency Maui Resort and Spa. Aloha!’_

“Rachel Edwards’ room, please?”

_“One moment, sir.”_

And in the joy of finding Rachel, the moment of small success, Steve got away with not answering Grace’s question, not having to reassure her that Danno was ok – was going to be ok. Kono was smiling too, a slightly confused look on her face.

‘ _Sir, she is currently enjoying a full day spa treatment and cannot be...’_

“Call her out, now, ma’am. It’s an emergency.”

‘ _Yes, sir.’_

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	3. Our Devoured Minds Part 3/8 (Hawaii 5-0)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.

Our Devoured Minds Part 3/8

Author: Tari_Roo

Rating: PG (Gen)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Steve would be bare-chested even more than he is, we would actually ‘see’ Danny trying to surf and Kono would be a secret Cylon. That is all. Wait… Chin would be as awesome as he is.

Summary:  Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny. 

Spoilers: Set in Season 1. No spoilers, but you kinda have to know the show, ok?

  


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Danny blinked. It felt so peculiar, eyelashes fluttering against damp material. Darkness so complete pressed against his face, his eyes straining to pierce the oppressive gloom, all in vain. Without moving his head, Danny sucked in a ragged breath and tried to orient himself, figure out what had happened. He’d either passed out or dozed off in the heat, a combination of spent adrenalin, fear, over-anxiety and well, pain sending him into oblivion for a few seconds. Or minutes. Not hours. Definitely not hours. 

Silence though had returned with a vengeance and Danny turned his attention to listening, still keeping his head still. True absolute silence is almost impossible, unless it’s artificial. There were sounds, just muted and distant through the blindfold and his own pounding heart. A rustle, a whisper of the ocean, probably the docks, not too far away. The drip of water. Seagulls. Maybe traffic. 

But that was it. No movement, no footsteps and best of all, no screams. 

Right, time to run the check list – figure out how bad off he was and if, given an opportunity, he’d be able to make a move against his captor.

Danny licked his lips, slow and cautious. They were cracked and bleeding, and felt thick and puffy. His whole back was tight and angry, the burn of muscles pushed to their limits and beyond but his shoulders and wrists were the worst, mostly due to the raw wounds and cuts. Danny wasn’t too sure where to put the state of his legs and feet, whether on the plus side or con, because they were a riot of pins and needles, and the feeling came and went in spurts of sharp agony. Every breath though burned, no matter how cautiously he exhaled, the reflex of ribs expanding, catching, aching shuddered through him. In fact, Danny had absolutely no intention of moving his shoulders any time soon, the long, deep (he assumed) cuts making every twitch and flinch painful. Throw in a massive headache from lack of sleep, pain and dehydration and ... 

He was in bad shape. Escape would be difficult. He couldn’t trust his legs to get him up and out of the chair, let alone the room and swinging any punches would probably floor him. 

That didn’t change the fact though, that given the chance, the smallest tiniest chance, Danny would take it. Try. Wobbly legs and carved up chest be damned. The bastard had Grace – maybe. 

Maybe.

A scrape, the drag of shoe on concrete and Danny froze, ears pricked.

“It’s the not knowing, right?”

The voice was shit closer than expected and Danny immediately pulled away, and choked off a cry as _everything_ protested the sudden move. The chair didn’t move, it never did, but taut muscle pulled against plastic ties with no give. 

“Do I have her? Don’t I?”

Danny growled, voice rough, more a croak than anything, “If you... I want to see her.”

“No.”

The guy was moving, walking slowly around Danny, feet light, occasionally running a finger over his bare shoulders, gooseflesh prickling at the motion. Danny didn’t try and follow the motion of the voice, he stayed still, face forward, rigid with tension. Threaten or plead?

“Here’s the thing, Detective Williams. Right now, you have no clue who I am. Sure, sure, you know my voice, but really, when was the last time someone was convicted on a voice ID?”

Danny made no sound, but twisted slightly as the guy pulled up a chair, bracing himself. As expected, the cool sensation of a straight razor, blade flat skimming over his shoulder came next. “But if I show you your daughter, well... there goes you and her surviving this. And realistically this is something we can both walk away from.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Danny hissed.

The blow, a backhand probably, made all sorts of lights dance in front of his eyes. Through the pounding in his head, Danny heard the bastard continue, his drawl long and indolent, “Besides, it’s the not knowing, that’s the real killer. Is it Grace, all soft and bruised in the other room? Or some random kid I grabbed off the street? Or maybe no one at all?” The razor blade tapped an insolent staccato on his skin, promise and threat, and a cheap card trick all rolled into one. 

Shaking his head, Danny swallowed. It sure as shit mattered though. It mattered because yes, either way Danny would hunt this SOB down. Hell, for what he had personally endured, Danny fully planned on beating the little shit’s face in. But if it was Grace .... whatever he did, he’d do it without his badge. 

Air on his face, breath exhaled, words following, “And you’re probably thinking, maybe it’s just a recording, a trick. Maybe it is. But can you take the chance, Williams? Are you willing to take that chance?”

Ignoring the hurt, the pain of clenching his fists, Danny curled his thick, blood filled fingers into white knuckled fists, turned to face him, and said slowly, “Either way, dickhead – you’re dead.”

Surprisingly enough, there was no come back, just a derisive chuckle. “So, back to the business at hand.”

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“Boss?”

Steve looked up from his tutorial on Angry Birds, and quirked an eyebrow at Kono. Unbeknownst to him, Grace did so too – right down to the same eyebrow and Kono grinned. “Got something.”

McGarrett nodded and slowly disentangled himself from the couch and Grace, who protested silently, her face falling. “Stay here, sweetie. Your mom is on her way.” Steve absently touched Grace’s cheek, his smile soft. 

Rachel had been beside herself, half shrieking on the other end of the phone, half hyperventilating but she was coming – first charter flight, ferry or helicopter she could secure. But it would take a good couple of hours for her to reach Ohau. Grace had had a long chat with her mother, both reassuring the other that they were ok, the unspoken worry for Danno hanging over them all. And there had been a lot of tears, lots and lots of tears. 

Afterwards, as Grace had sat in a sprawl of the emotionally spent and distraught, her expression distant and closed off, Steve had slipped back on to the couch and pulled her closed. Little girl smell, with fruity shampoo, and coconut oil based sunscreen was its own brand of soothing aroma. Who needed aromatherapy. And Steve pulled out his book on Grief Avoidance 101 – and went straight to point one. Distraction. Cue the iPhone and catapult ejected birds.

As Steve turned to follow Kono, Grace sat up on the couch, and Steve felt her watching him, again, eyes tracking his progress.

Chin was talking animatedly on the phone, jabbing his finger into the touch screen with emphasis. Kono though waved Steve over to her side of the table and said quietly, eyes darting at Chin. “We might have a break through. Chin’s arguing about a warrant.”

Steve shot a glance at the collected HPD officers, and Lt. Chou indicated that he was on the phone too. “Tell me,” McGarrett snapped. Kono pulled the rushed fingerprints from the SVU over to them and said, “CSU pulled four distinct sets of prints from the car.”

Nodding, Steve interrupted, “Three dead, one in holding.” 

Kono shook her head, a small smile showing, “No, that’s what’s interesting. Two of the sets are for our dead haole. One for Olekane. And one... mystery passenger.” Eyes widening, McGarrett pulled up the stills of the dead suspects from the morgue. “Jurgens and Studer are accounted for.. and Herr was wearing gloves. Any hits on the mystery man?”

“Unfortunately not yet, but before you get too pissed... there’s this.” Kono happily opened an email from immigration and showed Steve a scan of a passport. “Because the whole island is on high alert, some bright spark at immigration spotted this.” 

She pointed to a scan of an Italian passport, “This guy flew in last week, five whole days before the other guys, but the thumb print on the passport is Jurgen’s. Different name, different picture, same thumbprint.”

Steve huffed, and made the picture bigger, “That’s either an incredibly stupid forgery or ...”

“Jurgen’s passport had his actual thumbprint on it, so perhaps the forger did a rush job, got things mixed up but either way, a lucky break, Boss,” Kono sighed, bringing all of the passports closer and the fingerprint records. 

“Did you run this passport – Vizzini, through Interpol?” McGarrett asked, staring at the picture, burning the man’s face into memory.

Kono nodded, “It’s an alias, definitely. Nothing on Interpol, but the information used to create the identity is sketchy at best, and doesn’t stand up to a lot of scrutiny.”

“But you are running facial recognition on the passport photo?”

Her smile was bright and had a little ‘of course’ thrown in, but Kono quickly replied, “We’re running it through every database we have access to, and Interpol are doing the same.”

Steve leant against the table, arms stiff with suppressed frustration, fingers taping on the edge. Kono fidgeted slightly, eyes darting over the collected information.  Finally, McGarrett sighed, “Good, good. What’s the warrant for?” 

Across the table, Chin was giving them a thumbs up. Kono noted the signal as well and replied, “The real good news – this guy, Gianfranco Vizzini, has a reservation at the Halekulani. And now we have a warrant to search the place.”

McGarrett was moving, heading for the doors, checking his firearm. “Kono, good job. Stay here with, Grace?” 

McGarrett phrased it as a question more than an order but Kono’s face said it all – she wasn’t impressed, but she nodded anyway.”I’ll call if facial rec pops up anything.” 

Steve nodded, not really paying attention, noting several HPD officers were also mobilizing, and that Chin was hard on his heels. Steve paused to wave at Grace, not quite daring to promise but hoping none the less.

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“Where is Frank Marks?”

For the first time since three meatheads had grabbed him as he entered his condo, Danny paused before saying, very slowly, very clearly, enunciating each damn word, “I don’t know. Swear to God, I don’t know.” He injected as much credibility and belief into his voice as he could. 

Long trails of sweat, or blood, maybe both were running down Danny’s chest and back. If he thought it’d do any good, Danny would have demanded some water or a friggin’ ice cold beer, but the chances of getting a punch in the kisser were a hell of a lot better. And he was tired of being slapped around, so Danny bit back the urge to snark a little, because honestly, he might find himself begging. Instead, Danny braced himself for another blow, punch or cut after his answer – the same he’d been giving all night, but as the seconds dragged by, nothing happened.

Instead, the SOB moved closer, the legs of his chair scraping on the floor with a screech. “We’ve been dancing this annoying two step for hours, Williams, and I’ve been very patient. But my patience is running out, so let’s cut through the crap. I’ll change the question. Do you know who Frank Marks is?”

Danny paused again, fists tight, fingers pulsing in time with his heart. Ah.... this was a tricky one. Once you started answering anything, even the seemingly innocent questions, well... it was a slippery slope. But there had been a night, oh months and months ago, back when he’d first met Steve, and the guy was more Annoying Super Seal to Danny than a partner. Steve’s first stake out with Five-0. Danny’s one millionth stake out. McGarrett had strangely turned out not to be the most annoying person in the world to be trapped in a car with for five hours. But the conversation? Shit scary. An interesting, over the top, ‘you are not serious’ conversation about SERE and surviving interrogations.

So did Danny Williams, currently tied to a chair in a room with a straight razor wielding mad man, know who Frank Marks was?

“Yeah, sure. I know who he is.”

“Good, good. And what does Marks do – as an occupation?”

Ah, and down the rabbit hole of spilling the beans like a stool pigeon Danny went. Licking his lips, Danny coughed, throat dry, and said gruffly, “He’s a crappy small time conman, sorta old school grifter.”

Talking felt wrong, _wrong_ , especially after hours of gritting it out, and being a stubborn SOB himself. But as rapidly as Danny’s brain was reviewing McGarrett’s all to brief review of SERE, another very real, far more important than his own skin, reason for talking was looming inside Danny’s heart. 

The guy laughed, “Yeah, you ran into him a couple of times when you were a rookie, right?” He patted Danny’s cheek condescendingly, startling Williams with the sudden movement and the fact that it didn’t hurt.

Startled and worried, Danny drawled in reply, “You’ve done some research...” He tried to resist the urge to flinch away but failed. If the interrogation was continuing along the soft route, Danny wasn’t going to complain - much. And the one big, no, huge bonus to his capitulation to answering ‘the small stuff’ meant that Grace (or whoever, please please be a whoever and not Grace) would be left alone. For that remote, slim possibility that maybe, maybe Grace would be safe, Danny would talk the hind leg off a donkey about shit no one cared about. 

Danny refused to think about that when they got back to the ‘big stuff’.

Another laugh from his captor, a laugh full of smug pride, and the bastard sneered, “Of course. I know a hell of a lot more about you, Detective Williams, than you realize. But you busted Marks once after you’d made detective. A con that turned violent...”

Danny nodded, but remained silent. A con that ended in blood and Marks blabbering about needing protection and how it wasn’t his fault!

The guy trailed off, and waited. In the seconds that ticked by, Williams counted silently, wondering how far he could push his ... delay. Not long at all, it seemed and Danny flinched as he felt cold metal slide over his skin. The flat of the razor blade probably. The bastard’s voice was hard again, as unyielding as metal, “When was the last time you saw Marks, Williams?”

Concentrating more on the sensation of threatened violence rather than those distant memories, Danny took the plunge, swallowed and growled, “Not too sure.... maybe a few years ago.”

His growl turned into a strangled hiss as the bastard cut into his arm, long and slow, following the curve of his bicep. “Try again, Williams or Grace gets cut... just like this. Or maybe her sweet, little face...”

_ ‘Shit, shit.’ _

Breathing hard, Danny bit his lip, and waited for the burn to pass, trying to ignore the new trickle of blood down his arm. It was now, here that he had to decide. The questions were skirting the big question of Marks’s location. The more he answered, the more he slid down the slope of spilling the beans. But the Damocles sword of Grace, _Grace, Grace!_ hanging over his head made his heart pound harder and faster than the prospect of pain. Could he, dare he, gamble his little girl’s life, let alone safety on this information. 

“Fine. The Krasnov case.” The words slipped out. Easily. 

If the guy was bluffing, and Grace was safe and sound at home.... Not in the next room. Not scared, alone, terrified, hurt. But if she was?

Danny was supposed to have picked her up this morning, and Rachel was away – Grace was his for the whole weekend. But with only the housekeeper at home until Danny came to pick Grace up, the odds of her being safe were... too shaky for his liking. And... shit, the Krasnov case was old news. Old, old news. Not important any more. Really. Sorta. Maybe. 

_ Grace. _

“Right, Krasnov,” the guy drawled, dragging out the words. “Enlighten me.”

Pissed, furious, and well – in a great deal of pain, Danny snorted and croaked, “Like you don’t know.” 

He knew, the SOB knew all about the case. He had to. It was why he was in Hawaii and why Danny was tied to a chair in an abandoned boat shed, why Grace was maybe, maybe, maybe in a world of trouble. Or maybe ok. Maybe with Steve. 

“Oh, I know,” the bastard hissed, breath hot on Danny’s face, the razor back, and tracing circles on his shoulder. “But since you’re being so co-operative and have a little girl to keep safe... you tell me.”

Suddenly, it was too much, all of it – just too much and Danny snapped, “Go to hell! Marks is in the goddamn Witness Protection Program, you moron. I don’t frigging know where he is!”

His pulse was roaring in his ears and absently Danny knew he’d reopened the cuts on his arms and wrists but anger surged through him and adrenalin kept the pain away. But the bastard didn’t cut or punch, or kick ... he stood. The chair fell over, metallic percussion on the cement floor, footsteps loud but away, away from Danny.

_ Shit! _

He was going for Grace and Danny’s heart exploded. “Wait, stop! No!”

Danny had been trying desperately, determinedly not to think, picture Grace in that room. The mind’s eye can conjure up horrors worse than any reality can produce. And sometimes reality out did itself. But right now, helplessly, all Danny could see was his precious little girl, tied up, gagged, crying, bleeding – all because her father was being a hardass about a stupid, long forgotten case. 

“Just stop! How in the hell am I supposed to tell you something I don’t know! Please, please... don’t!”

The whole sentence had started out as a shout and as that heart shredding image burned into his brain, Danny’s voice dropped, rolled over and exposed its throat, begging. 

“Please.”

The footsteps got louder, closer and Danny’s heart slowed, minutely, in its frantic dance. 

Through the blindfold, Danny sensed that the SOB paused in front of him, looming, in control, the one calling the shots. 

“Then how, Detective Williams, did he testify in one of your cases, two years after he ‘disappeared’?”

 Danny didn’t know whether to be terrified, amazed or panicked. He went with all three. So much for the DA office and their vaunted security measures. So much for the Marshall Service and their tight lips. 

Grace’s life hung in the balance. It didn’t matter if she ‘was’ here, in this hell hole. It didn’t matter that maybe she was safe, somewhere else. There were too many maybes, too much possibility, too much uncertainty. And Danny’s brain was about to explode with it all.

So. Screw the DA. Screw the Marshalls. And screw Marks.

“I don’t know where he is – I swear to God! But I know how to contact him.”

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Continued in Part 4  
  
[Part 1](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58507.html)   [Part 2](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58887.html)   [Part 3](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/59198.html)    [Part 4](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/60521.html)   [Part 5](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/63751.html)  [Part 6](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/66568.html)   [Part 7](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/69466.html)

  



	4. Our Devoured Minds Part 4/8 (Hawaii 5-0)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.

Our Devoured Minds Part 4/8

Author: Tari_Roo

Rating: PG (Gen)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Steve would be bare-chested even more than he is, we would actually ‘see’ Danny trying to surf and Kono would be a secret Cylon. That is all. Wait… Chin would be as awesome as he is.

Summary:  Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny. 

Spoilers: Set in Season 1. No spoilers, but you kinda have to know the show, ok?

  


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The hotel room was pretty swanky. Top end, luxury suite, but not so over the top so as to draw attention. The kind of suite a wealthy business man booked. Free wifi. Fax machine. Separate space for meetings and conference calls. A fine mix of professional business atmosphere combined with local hospitality. A dying lay of flowers was crumpled in the trash can. 

“Housekeeping hasn’t been in to clean since check in by request,” Chin reported, his grip on his sidearm firm and confident. He joined Steve in the main body of the suite, bedroom to the right, dining area and kitchen to the left. The breathtaking view of the ocean out of the wide, floor to wall windows and sliding door was lost in the pressing here and now. 

McGarrett studied the room, carefully shoving aside emotion so that he could reach the necessary detachment to find the crucial pieces to the puzzle. “We need to check the security feed for the hallway CCTV, find out when someone was last here. See if Reception remember if anyone else was staying here.”

Shifting, face set and determined, Chin nodded, “Already checked. The card key to the door was last used yesterday afternoon, midday. Nothing since. And they’re pulling the camera feed and sending it to Kono.”

“Good,” Steve muttered, still scanning the room.

To be honest, this room, this hotel, didn’t make a lot of sense. If you came to the island for some less than legal business, why check into a hotel with state of the art security? Why have the room at all – unless Danny was nearby? But even then... a place like this drew attention, left a paper trail, security footage, eye witnesses. 

“What are you thinking, Boss?”

McGarrett shrugged and holstered his sidearm. Biting his lip, he pointed at the messy bed. “Something doesn’t add up, Chin. If this guy, Vizzini, is the guy behind Danny’s kidnapping, why leave all this crap here? Hell, why stay here at all? Why not rent a low budget motel room somewhere where no one asks questions?”

There was a lot of personal stuff left behind. An empty, unpacked suitcase. A closet of clothes. Dishes and room service trays on tables and counter tops. In fact, there were definite signs of more than one person using the room, more glasses with dregs of alcohol in them than one man would have. Unless he was an alcoholic. If they had burst into the room and found the place tidied, with signs of someone covering their tracks, it would have made Steve feel ... easier about it all. People who left evidence behind where either terminally stupid – or very clever. 

“Maybe he planned on coming back, eventually,” Chin said softly, stepping aside to let a CSU Tech past him. “Or their plans didn’t pan out?”

“Why? You make a play like this, and grab a cop, you better have a quick exit strategy, one that doesn’t involve going back to a hotel,” Steve snapped, eyes dark with emotion. “Everything about this shit screams planning and professionals. So...”

“So...?” Chin prodded.

McGarrett turned to Chin, restraining the urge to pace. “Ok, so I’m a lowlife scumbag who plans on kidnapping Danny. I get here five days ago, check in and start planning,” Steve said, toeing over a pile of papers, most of which looked like internet print outs, maps and emails. Browsing them briefly, Steve noted the maps of Ohau, Honolulu, and Los Angeles. There were print outs for private plane hire, ferries, airline time tables, boat charters. 

“And start watching Danny,” Chin added and Steve nodded. “Yeah, his movements, address, security at the condo, whatever.” Some of the papers were from online newspapers, international and local.

Eyes wide, Chin picked up the thread of conversation and said, “And meet up with Olekane, a local gunrunner, get some weapons, organize a place to stash Danny.” 

“And plan an exit strategy.”

“Ok,” Chin sighed, “Then what – grab Danny and...”

Steve’s grip on his holstered gun whitened, and he hissed, “Danny doesn’t talk, so they go to Plan B. Grace.”

“Yeah, but why not check out? Why leave all of this evidence – these clues?” Chin asked, shooting the HPD officers out in the hall a brief look. 

“To throw us off? Maybe they’re not as professional as we think,” Steve snorted, going for levity and failing, the worry about Danny crawling up his throat and threatening to strangle him. Standing here, talking possibilities with Chin was burning a hole through his chest. The need, the desperate need to move, act, to do something had not died, but rather was surging with frustrated pain through him. 

Taking those emotions in hand, reigning them in, for now, Steve shook his head and corrected himself before Chin could say anything, “I don’t buy it. I think leaving the hotel like this is deliberate. They know the moment we find out Danny is missing, the clock is ticking. So, this is to buy them time.”

Chin frowned, his own worry buried behind a professional facade, “Then we probably can’t trust anything we ‘find’ in this room. Or risk discounting something valid, because we’re uncertain.”

Steve didn’t reply, thinking silently, running the scenarios, trying to find an angle that made sense. Three foreigners. Known hired guns. Possible military backgrounds. A local contact for firearms and a location – somewhere quiet where they would be undisturbed. A mystery mastermind or leader. The last man standing. 

Out of the corner of his eye, McGarrett watched Chin call Kono, probably for an update on any of the multiple searches they were running. Old Jersey cases. Five-0 cases. 

Closing his eyes, McGarrett  ran through this ‘operation’ like it was his own, ignoring the raw revulsion at the idea. But he had planned Ops like this – snatch and grabs, dark and dirty interrogations. The fact that he’d done so under sanction, orders and necessity didn’t change the fact that the similarity was sticking in his craw. 

You studied your target. _Danny._ Got him alone, or neutralized any companions. You had one or two flexible exit strategies and a back-up to those. Team communication was critical, so everyone checked in, regularly. And you kept tabs on local hostiles. _Us._

Steve’s eyes flew open, an idea blossoming with force. Chin noticed and quickly ended his call with Kono. “Later, cuz. What, Boss?”

Scanning the room with renewed fervor and growled, “He knows his men are dead or in custody. They would have missed a check in by now.”

“Sure,” Chin agreed, scanning the room as well, but with less certainty, unclear as to what they were looking for. 

“Hey, hey, Jim!” McGarrett called one of the CSU Techs over, and as Jim approached, his expression earnest, Steve asked quickly, “You got a frequency scanner by any chance?”

Jim stared at him blankly before grinning, “Yeah, in my kit in the van. I’ll get it for you.”

It was an indication of the dedication and seriousness that everyone at HPD was treating this case that Jim left instantly and a few Techs looked at Steve expectantly. However gratifying it was, McGarrett paid it every little attention as he started poking around the closest lamps and lighting fixtures.

Before Chin could ask, Steve bit out, “He, Vizzini, needs to know how much time he has, how close we are to finding them, if anyone of his guys talked. And if I were him... I’d leave a nice evidence filled room for the local podunks to stumble on. To spend time processing, dusting for fingerprints, running around like CSI Hawaii.”

Chin snapped his fingers and pointed at the overhead light, “And he’d need a way... like a camera to check up on us. On our progress!”

“Yep,” Steve grit out, carefully scanning the room. Eyes and ears on the enemy. Eyes and Ears! Chin signaled for the CSU guys to start looking as well, and the hunt was on. Jim returned in record time with an electronic frequency scanner and Steve took it with what he hoped wasn’t borderline rudeness. Flicking it on, he reviewed the dial and readings. The room was full of electronic ‘hum’ – tv, wireless, cellphones. But the flower arrangement on the coffee table – that shouldn’t be registering. Dropping to his haunches, McGarrett peered into the stems of orchids, plumeria, and tuberosa.  And there it was.... a high tech, wireless camera. Tiny, single purpose. 

“Hey, hey, can we track this signal? Anyone?” Chin was shouting at the Techs who were alternatively nodding or shaking their heads. Steve though glared at the lens, resisting the urge to rip it out, and smash it to a hundred pieces. _Gotcha_. 

Chin joined Steve and stared into the mass of white flowers and grey camera. “If he’s seeing this and realizes we’re on to him...”

Steve nodded, and sighed, “Then Danny’s time is running out.” McGarrett stood and dialed Kono in one smooth movement. “ _Boss?”_

Steve barked quickly at her, “Kono, get in touch with tech specialists at HPD and co-ordinate a trace on this camera, I’m sending you the signal IP address and frequency band now.” 

“ _On it, Steve.”_

Kono ended the call and Steve drummed his fingers on the phone, running through options. As much as he wanted to run out the room and start a street by street search, waiting for the information would be faster, even if the waiting was torture in its own right. 

His stomach did a weird flop, clenching in on itself at the idea of torture, and McGarrett stared at the phone, willing for Kono to call back, now. Chin had picked up some of the papers lying around the room, and was paging through them... just in case. With time pressing down on them like an anvil, constricting your chest, making each and every breath an agony of pressure, doing something helped. McGarrett ran through everything they knew – again, double checking that they weren’t jumping to conclusions, chasing down rabbit holes that led nowhere. This though... this made sense. With no other real leads appearing and a nice fat deliberate red flag waving for the cops to see, to distract them, Steve felt a glimmer of hope. Hope that they’d get ahead of the bad guys and find Danny.

His phone had barely begun to vibrate, let alone ring when he accepted the call, and snapped, “Yeah, Kono?”

” _Ha, they’re barely covering their tracks here, Steve. The camera feed is being accessed from a computer in Honolulu Harbor. It’s bouncing around a lot of wireless networks in the area, cruise ships, shipping and freight companies, but we’ve got a general location. Sending it to you now.”_

McGarrett frowned, and motioned Chin closer so that he could hear, “The Harbor? But that’s an insanely busy place, not exactly the quiet spot you’d want to interrogate someone. And security is pretty damn tight.”

Chin shook his head, “Maybe not, especially if you found out which storage sheds weren’t being used and only needed 24 hours, maybe less to get the job done ... “

Steve snapped his fingers at Chin and nodded, speaking to both Chin and Kono, “And a local gang banger told you where the gaps in security were, especially a gun runner!”

Kono completed the thought, “ _It’d also provide a good exit – come in by plane but leave by cruise ship. Get lost in the mass of people.”_

_ “ _ And we have no idea what you look like!” Chin sighed, already moving for the door, trailing McGarrett. 

“Kono, if you can narrow this location down at all...”

_ “You’ll be the first to know, Boss.” _

Issuing rapid fire instructions to the HPD officers and detectives in the room and corridor, McGarrett led the fast paced walk down and out of the hotel. If their man was this Vizzini, and the harbor wasn’t another false lead, they had to get there fast, before Danny cracked, or the kidnappers spooked and ran. 

Steve didn’t even want to think about they might find if that was the case.

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“So, tell me. How do I reach Marks?”

Danny licked his lips, mind racing, stalling... for what he wasn’t too sure. Oh hell, yes, he was sure. He was stalling for that rescue, for that damned idiotic rescue that involved a lot of jumping through windows and unnecessary hand grenades. And really, Danny could use some unnecessary hand grenades, they felt... necessary for once, less insane. Or maybe Steve was just rubbing off on him.

And the fact that that idea didn’t bother him – bothered him. 

“What? Like I’m some walking, talking human telephone directory? I don’t know the number right off the bat!” Danny snarled, unable to keep the sarcasm away.

Maybe it was the hope of Steve. And Chin’s shot gun. And Kono kick ass round house. But the mouth was back in full force. Hell, it was probably the accumulation of hours of torture and frustration and now a frigging crushing mountain of worry about Grace and shit... the mouth was back. 

Mr Jackass didn’t like Danny’s mouth, and the quick succession of punches, one, two to the jaw and cheek confirmed what Williams’ knew all too well. Through the ringing in his head, joining the cacophony of a headache, Danny heard the muffled, “I’m not asking again!”

Trying to shake it off, without actually shaking his head, Danny groaned, “Punching me does not help! You cannot expect me to think, let alone remember anything when you keep hitting me!”

Alas, physical blows were not the only items on the menu, and sure enough, there was that damn razor again, pressed into his skin, right below the jaw line. Without prompting, Danny swallowed and said, “Dude, the information, the frigging blow by blow instructions on how to reach Marks is my old leather binder. Which is in the top drawer of the craptastic closet in my condo.  The only closet. Near the back. The number is somewhere in the middle of the book... it’s broken down by case.”

The SOB didn’t move the razor, instead the pressure increased and trickle of blood was warm on hot skin. “That’s not good enough.”

Danny held still, ignored the blood, focused on the sweat soaking his shirt, the tingle of his feet trying to regain feeling. He growled, “It’s damn well gonna have to be, because I sure as hell don’t remember! You cannot seriously expect me to remember the number of some witness in a case I closed five years ago!”

Slowly, with all the associated implied threat it entailed, the pressure lessened and the sharp edge of the razor disappeared, leaving behind the faint sensation of a pulsing throb as blood continued to seep from the cut. 

It wasn’t hard, imagining the wheels churning in the guy’s head, as he weighed up his options. Believe Danny, leave and go get the book. The thing was, and Danny sorta belatedly realized this, and kinda kicked himself for not realizing sooner – the minions hadn’t come back yet. 

Or had they, and he had just missed it?

A wild, earth shattering hope surged through Danny as his sluggish, over tired, pain riddled brain put what it hoped was tab A into slot B. At least three guys had attacked him at home. Only the razor wielding mad man here had done any questioning, but the other guys must have been sent to get Grace. If this SOB actually had Grace, he could just send the minions to fetch the book. If the minions weren’t back.... No Grace.

Alternately berating himself for not thinking this through before, Danny waited on tenterhooks for the man’s response... reaction. Send thugs or go himself because he had no thugs! And therefore... no Grace.

_ Grace. _

A tiny, tiny insidious voice inside his head whispered that hired thugs can be smart too, and stay real quiet and play along with the torture. 

The hand and unexpected tight grip on his knee, fingers pressed into the ligaments, his damn ACL injury, made Danny bite off a groan, and fight to pull away. Uselessly. Head back, fingers clenched, body rigid with pain as every other cut and wound joined in the chorus of pain as he moved, tried to move, Danny growled, “Shit, shit...”

The pressure on his knee continued and the bastard hissed, “If you are jerking me around, sending us on a wild goose chase, I am going to let you watch me gut your little girl! Got it?” The last words were accompanied by a sharp twist and Danny gasped, eyes flooding with the tears as his knee protested, loudly. 

Abruptly the pressure was gone and in the wash of relief, Danny felt his heart beating against his chest like it was tunneling  a way out. As he took long, deep breaths, well as deep as he could, Danny clung onto that wild hope, that desperate hope. The bastard was leaving. Actually leaving.

Maybe. Maybe Grace was ok. Because the rest of the gang hadn’t come back. So he had to leave. Because Grace was ok.

_ Please, please, please. _

Through the rush of blood and throbbing of everything, Danny willed his body to calm down, keep it together and be ready. For that imminent rescue. Straining to hear anything, anything to confirm his hopes or fears, Danny sat quietly, just breathing. 

There were odd sounds, like boxes or stuff being moved around. Distant traffic. Seagulls again. Water. No voices though. Just movement. 

A whimper.

A gagged, terrified whimper.

_ Oh, please let that be me! _

But it wasn’t, as booted footsteps, one man, echoed through the room, the whimper came again. And then the footsteps came nearer. 

“Wha...”

The blow came out of nowhere, which wasn’t all that unexpected, considering the blindfold, but it still caught Danny off guard. Through the haze of pain, Danny barely fought the rough gag shoved into his mouth, or the duct tape that followed, two long strips slapped over his mouth and the material. Ungentle fingers checked the plastic ties cutting in his wrists and ankles, and maybe tightened them, but Danny wasn’t entirely sure. The motion of checking had been painful enough.

In the silence that fell after, after the footsteps were gone and out the door, off to find a book, Danny did his own stock take. Tied up. Yep. Blindfolded. Check. Gagged. New and not improved. In dire need of a piss. Hell yes. Thirsty. Yes. Hungry. Yes. Status – completely and utterly screwed.

He resisted adding a mocking ‘still not King’, and clung to the one frigging silver lining. He had been left behind. Bastard Number One was gone. Which meant that either the scumbags sent to get Grace had failed, hopefully because Steve had kicked their asses. Or, they were on lunch, or some other improbable tourist thing. So maybe Steve knew he was in trouble. Had Grace. Was on his way. And maybe Danny had bought himself, all of them time. Because his hand writing was chicken scratch at best and the SOB was going to have to bring that journal back here in order for Danny to translate.

So... silver lining on an otherwise completely crap day.

Danny tried very hard not to think about the whimper that had not been him. The whimper from the other room. 

But if it was Grace... his monkey...

Shit if he didn’t feel like crying right about now. 

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Chin might have paled a little as Steve swerved to take a corner and fumble for his phone at the same time. Hitting the handsfree button, Steve yelled over the siren, “Yeah, Kono?”

_ “Bad news, Steve. The signal’s gone.” _

“Shit!” McGarrett slammed his fist against the steering wheel and took another corner way too fast, foot flat down. “Did you narrow it done at all before you lost it?”

Kono sounded breathless, like she was running, or hurrying somewhere. _“Not really, it’s still pretty much anywhere around Piers 19 to 23. That’s a lot of area to cover, Boss.”_

It sure as hell was, and Steve white knuckled the steering wheel, cursing under his breath. Chin clung to the passenger side of the vehicle and said, “Kono, did you get a list of vacant berths and empty storage units?”

“ _Working on it. The Port Authority is emailing me everything they’ve got, but they’re also waiting on a few commercial shipping companies to update their manifests and containers on the system. I’ll push them to hurry it up.”_

Steve snarled, “You get the Governor’s office to help if necessary, Kono. We need to narrow down the search area.”

_ “On it.” _

McGarrett deliberately did not look at Chin as Kono ended the call, even though he felt Chin’s careful gaze, his reassurance. Losing the signal was not a good sign – at all. The kidnappers must know HPD and Five O were on to them, the camera discovered. The big question was – what did this mean for Danny? Give up and let him go? Tie up loose ends? Move him? Turn up the heat and really try get the information they wanted.

“Steve, I’m sure...”

McGarrett cut Chin off with a direct, hard look. “There is no way on earth I’m telling Grace we didn’t get there in time, Chin. No way.”

The increase in speed was a direct correlation to the adrenalin surge of determined panic. Failure just wasn’t a damn option.

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To be continued in Part 5  
[Part 1](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58507.html)   [Part 2](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58887.html)   [Part 3](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/59198.html)    [Part 4](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/60521.html)   [Part 5](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/63751.html)  [Part 6](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/66568.html)   [Part 7](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/69466.html)  


  



	5. Our Devoured Minds Part 5/8 (Hawaii 5-0)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.

Our Devoured Minds Part 5/8

Author: Tari_Roo

Rating: PG (Gen)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Steve would be bare-chested even more than he is, we would actually ‘see’ Danny trying to surf and Kono would be a secret Cylon. That is all. Wait… Chin would be as awesome as he is.

Summary:  Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny. 

Spoilers: Set in Season 1. No spoilers, but you kinda have to know the show, ok?

  


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Danny waited.

He waited because it was the only frigging thing he could do. He couldn’t even damn well whistle Dixie. 

Dixie might not have been his first choice of jaunty tunes to whistle, but the expression wasn’t ‘whistle Frank Sinatra.’ It should be whistle ol’ Frank, because Dixie? So last century. And well, Danny didn’t know Dixie. 

Something moved and Danny froze, ears straining. 

The sound came again, it sounded like shuffling, pained shuffling. Slowly, Danny turned towards the sound, and it broke off. 

“Shit.”

It was more a gasp, less an exclamation. But it was a female voice, definitely not a little girl. A woman. 

The large piece of Danny’s heart that had been pounding in desperate worry for Grace settled back into a relieved, normal pace. The rest of him that was a mix of curious, hopeful and wary remained still. The footsteps resumed, soft, tentative, now accompanied by little gasps of pain but steadily getting louder, closer.

The hairs on Danny’s arm rose as he felt someone brush his skin, and a cold, clammy hand clutched his arm.

“You look, sorry, you look terrible.”

Her voice was close, near his ear like her face was right next to his. Her breath tickled the unshaven skin on his jaw line, raising more hairs on his arms. Not wanting to head butt her accidently and knock out his one chance at getting lose, Danny mumbled “ _No shit, Sherlock.”_

Fortunately, Sherlock couldn’t decipher mumbling through a gag, as she groaned and fumbled at the ties cutting into his wrists, the plastic tight on the metal legs of the chair. “Plastic, huh? Good thing I ...”

Danny hoped the good thing was a real good thing and not a pretend good thing, and as he felt her start to saw through the tie, he bumped it up to ‘excellent thing’.  Whatever she was using was sharp, and her hands weren’t too steady. The edge of the blade or whatever kept nicking his wrists and she kept mumbling apologies. Danny though, didn’t care. _‘Saw, Baby, saw!’_

As good as the ‘whatever’ was in slicing his skin, it seemed to be taking ages to cut the plastic. Eventually the tie snapped and a rush of blood flooded into his wrist and hand. The flood of blood included a surge of pins and needles, nerves waking up, and screaming. 

The woman moved to his right wrist, running a shaky hand over his bare shoulders, touching briefly the long cuts there. Danny muffled his own groan, and tried to move his arm, clenching his fist. It felt weird, his arm, almost like it wasn’t his own with all the pins and needles, but Danny pushed through.  He went for the blindfold first, suddenly desperate to ‘see’. 

Fumbling, thick fingers struggling to obey, Danny pulled at the material, fought the knot and pulled it off. Blinking, the room swam into view. It wasn’t brightly lit, a stuffy, dim industrial type space with no interior light. Slowly, Danny tugged on the duct tape over his mouth and firmly pulled it off, and spat out the wad of cloth. Gagging a little, Danny coughed and looked down at his rescuer. 

Dirty blonde hair pulled up in a rat’s nest was all Danny could see – that and a dirty white top. She was doing a quicker job on this wrist, but it was still taking...

“There done!” 

The lady stood up fast and shot him a bright grin, before staggering backwards, her hand clutching her head. “Whoa, too fast, too fast.” Upright and staggering, she was the most beautiful thing Danny had ever seen. Make up smudged and smeared, too thick, too much. Bottle blonde. Short, very short, white going dirty brown dress. No shoes. Smeared, messed, bloody mouth and tear marks etched in mascara. Hell Steve dressed in drag right now would look hot, because ... ok, not Steve. But hello Freedom! 

“Hey,” she smiled and Danny grinned back. “Hey.”

It was the adrenalin, the roar of relief, of hope that brought that giddy smile. Danny stared at her for a moment, brain ticking over in silence. The woman shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “Can we... you know, go?”

Reality snapped back into focus and Danny nodded. “Yeah, ah, feet?” They both looked down at his feet, still tied to the chair’s front legs. The lady knelt, fingering something small and swallowed. “Your feet are very swollen.”

Danny nodded slowly in return. He’d stopped feeling them a while ago. They were red and thick, like lobsters ready to be boiled. “The, the... your wrists were bad, but... I... it’ll still hurt.” She held up her blade, a bottle cap. It was flattened, the edge probably sharpened on the floor, but it was still a bottle cap. From a beer bottle. El Sol. 

“You used that?”

She nodded, her smile suddenly bright again, pleased with herself. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, one eye purpling with a massive bruise on her cheek. “Yep. Freed myself. He left the bottle on the table, but the cap was on the floor. I remembered an episode of MacGyver....”

Danny rolled his eyes, but grinned. “Nothing else around once you got free?” 

“Nope,” she shook her head. “He cleared out completely – took all the stuff. Laptop, bags, everything.” 

It was a splinter in his eye, a scratch that wouldn’t be ignored and Danny had to ask, just in case. “And there was no one else... in the room. With you?” 

She met his gaze, at first confused and then understanding bloomed. Her face fell and Danny’s heart plummeted instantly, but she quickly said, “Just me. I promise. Just me.” Her voice grew hard and pained on the last ‘me’. A fresh surge of relief battered Danny’s exhausted reserves. No Grace. Never Grace. Grace was fine. Grace was safe.

_ Please. _

“Let’s get out of here, ok?” she smiled and bent down to start cutting the ties on his feet. Danny nodded slowly, still swarmed with thoughts of Grace, and then once again reality crashed in around him as the bottle cap’s edge cut his foot.

“Sorry,” she sighed at his hiss. Her hands were shaking too much that was the problem, her smile false and pretend, the facade easy to pull into place but no less real. And her hands betrayed her. Danny’s were no better, but after one too many cuts, he took the cap from her and finished sawing through the ties.  Self-inflicted pain was something with which he was all too familiar. 

Gently, Danny pressed the bottle cap back into her hand and said, “Souvenir for you. And thanks.”

She closed her hand around the cap, eyes wide and nodded shallowly, bloody mouth open. Danny though kept a hold on her hand and said, “Who are you?”

Not even trying to take her hand away, she sighed, “Pandora to my friends. Candice to my real friends.”

“Hooker.” Danny didn’t ask, already knew and Candice nodded. “I work the Hiltons and the Halekulani. Friday night, last night, I got a call from a john I picked up last week. He... wanted to go somewhere near a beach, and I ... ended up here.”

Here. Being beaten. Maybe worse. All so that Danny would think they, he, had Grace. Because they, he, didn’t. Danny stared at Candice’s bruised face, her too wide eyes and strange mouth and felt a twist of guilt that he was glad she had been there, and not Grace. The SOB’s plan to get Grace had failed, but he already had a back-up on hand, someone who might not be missed. 

“Sorry,” Danny mumbled but Candice shook her head. “Not your fault...” She trailed off as she thought it through, and sighed, “Guess it is, sorta. Sorry.”

They might have stayed there forever, frozen on the brink of escape, caught in the amber of a stolen moment, two people emerging from a hellish experience. Danny eventually blinked, the colors of the sunlight through the cracked roof bleeding into the dark. “Come on, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Candice nodded, and tightened her grip on his hand.

Standing was easier said than done. His arms had been bad, but the paralysis of pins and needles in his legs was shocking. Luckily Candice was ready to steady him, catching and stopping Danny’s lilt to one side that might have ended in a face plant. “Shit,” Danny growled, struggling to take a step. The cement floor was cool and wet or maybe it was just his feet. “Take it slow...” Candice suggested. 

Danny shook his head, “No, gotta move. Just in case...”

Just in case the bastard was on his way back, or something. But now that he was up right and moving, Danny wanted out of this foul, stuffy, gloomy room that stank of his blood, and fear. It wasn’t the most dignified shuffle he’d ever produced, and he might have leant on Candice more than she did on him, but together they made their way towards the slightly ajar door.

Sunlight streamed in from outside, a ray of freedom, a bright white sword slicing through their prison, a promise of life. 

Candice pushed on the hot metal door, and it moved imperceptibly until she gave it another good shove. Danny hung on her shoulder, watching her try, hoping he didn’t have to help. Right now flipping someone the bird would be impossible, unless they really really deserved it. “Son of a...” Candice halfheartedly kicked at the stubborn door, nearly toppling them both over, and it slid to one side just enough for them to edge out.

Outside, the sun was white bright, directly overhead and cheerfully ignorant of the dark room they’d left. The immediate area was all warehouse space, uniform buildings running up and down, numbers in paint marking the only uniqueness to be found. “Harbor?” Danny guessed, and Candice nodded. “Yeah, guess so. Right direction, at least from what I remember. Last night is kinda... blurry.”

Danny tried to figure out which way was makai and which was makau. He pointed left, and muttered uncertainly, “Ocean?” Candice squinted and nodded. The Port Authority office would be towards town and therefore makau. Right it was. As he turned to the right, head down, eyes still struggling with the bright sun, he noticed Candice’s feet. And remembered her painful walk towards him. Her feet looked bloody, cut up.

She noticed his gaze and swallowed audibly, her face paling, so white she looked ready to pass out. “Ah, he... he was a sick bastard. Liked ... liked his razor.”

Danny didn’t want to know, and well, shit, had intimate experience with that razor. “I know. You ok to walk?”

Candice’s expression hardened, but her lips trembled with suppressed emotion. “Over broken glass if I have to.” 

But for both of them, bravado and determination only got them so far and their painful co-supportive shuffle towards help slowed to a snail’s pace after only a few feet. Danny’s legs weren’t the problem, but his feet were still not his own, and kept threatening to give out on him. It was his chest and arms that were the real issue. Breathing hurt and being in pain and trying to push through made you take deeper breaths, so it hurt more. The cuts on his arms and shoulders didn’t hurt until he moved them, or Candice bumped them. Alas, every step involved some sort of ‘bumping’ as Candice tried to walk on cut up feet. 

She was getting paler by the second, the bruises darkening to black shadows bleeding into her mascara.  Normally right about now, Danny would be lifting her spirits with some upbeat quips, but the words were lost in the haze of his own pain. And his thoughts kept on running back to Grace, even though he knew – knew – she must be safe. But until he saw her, felt her in his arms, the specter  of her tiny, bruised face, and sliced little feet gnawed at his belly. 

“I, I... I gotta stop, dude.”

Candice was stopping alright and pulling him down along with her. Danny managed to control their fall enough that they ended up on some ancient looking crates rather than on the ground. Candice groaned, and collapsed forward over her legs, hands clutched in her hair. “Shit, that hurts. Sorry, I know you...”

She paused and looked up at him, face creased in bemusement. Danny was resting against the wall, trying to pretend the thought of getting up didn’t fill him with horror. He quirked an eyebrow at her half smile, more twisted lips than a smile. “I don’t even know your name. I heard him call you William, or maybe Dick?”

“Danny Williams. Cop.” Danny didn’t know why he added the cop status, only he felt she should know. For some reason. Initially Candice’s eyes grew huge, fearful and then she relaxed. “Not Vice, I know all the Vice guys.”

“Five-0.”

“The super-cops? Really?” Her expression was both impressed and sarcastic, a ‘seriously!’ contained somewhere in there. Not offended in the slightest, Danny went for a sheepish grin rather than a shrug. His face hurt, one too many blows to the head, but it hurt less than everything else.  

“No way,” Candice sighed, leaning back next to him. “It’s like meeting an actual almost celebrity. I saw the back of Burt Reynolds’s head once, you know.”

“Cool,” Danny huffed, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt his ribs, pull on the cuts, or just plain suck. It didn’t exist. The noon sun blazed overhead. Another day in paradise. Sun, sand and sea.  Just don’t forget the humidity, sand fleas, constant rain and oh – volcano! 

“Where are you from?” Danny groaned, croaking over his thirst and thinking of the cold beer in his office fridge at HQ.

“Baltimore. You?”

“New Jersey.”

Sitting there together, side by side, arms touching, fresh blood drying, Danny felt a wave of exhaustion drown the surge of energy escape had launched. Candice’s breathing was evening out, and a thought flitted across Danny’s brain about getting up before unconsciousness claimed them both. They were probably suffering from a combination of shock and blood loss. Both dangerous. Deadly.

“Come on, we need to get going.”

Candice’s eyes opened, flat with exhaustion but she nodded. On a different day, with someone else, their struggle to stand might have been amusing, a comedy of movement. But not today, and not after last night. 

“You know, I don’t think I’m going to get very far, Danny. My feet...,” Candice was trying not to squeeze his arm too hard, as she settled it over her shoulder. 

Danny was watching the fresh trickle of blood run down his side as another cut opened up. “Oh, don’t worry. Any second now I fully expect a full throttle Navy Seal to come charging around the corner hell bent on rescue. And when he does, I am going to punch him in the kisser for being late.”

Candice started to smile, a half laugh born of exhaustion and overstimulation when pounding feet and shouts filled the air. They both turned, eyes seeking out this new development, Danny reaching for a non-existent gun. 

Down the causeway, back towards the sea and the harbor mouth, a pair of uniformed HPD Officers ran around the corner, their guns sweeping towards Danny and Candice. “Detective Williams?” one of them called, running towards them. Danny vaguely recognized him, a beat cop, Officer Mani. 

“Thank goodness,” Danny sighed and Candice smiled in genuine relief. “Never thought I’d be glad to see cops.”

Danny didn’t answer; his legs suddenly decided that since help was now here, even if it wasn’t in the form of an irate Navy Seal, they were done for the day, thank you very much. He sat down abruptly, pulling Candice down so unexpectedly she let out a strange little squawk. “Sorry,” Danny mumbled, a wash of darkness lapping at the edges of his vision, a wave of heat reddening his cheeks.

“Williams?” 

Office Mani was suddenly ‘there’, his face way too close to Danny’s, brown eyes wide. Steady fingers pressed themselves into Danny’s neck, checking his pulse, trying not to touch the bruises there, or the small cuts. “Harry, call in the bus, now. We need a paramedic, asap.”

Harry was checking over Candice, and Danny caught the nod, and heard the other officer snap into his shoulder radio. Looking into Mani’s eyes, Danny croaked; throat strangely dry and tight, “My...”

Officer Mani though smiled more teeth than humor, “We’ve been combing the island for you, sir. Glad we found you. Was getting a little worried. Any idea who took you? Where they are?”

A steady, rising beat was throbbing inside Danny’s head, the heat and darkness rising, Office Mani fading in and out. “Sir? Sir?”

Danny clutched Mani’s arm, squeezing tight, hard, and desperate. He couldn’t pass out, not without knowing, not with that sword returning, the darkness returning, the not knowing, the pain, the heat, the dark. “... daughter....”

Vaguely Danny imagined the words, “...get McGarrett. Ambulance.”

Was Steve hurt? Typical. Glory hog. Couldn’t leave the doofus alone for two seconds.

Sounds hurt, the heat was abruptly gone, ice filling his veins, the sun light flickering in and out like a dying fluorescent light. Staccato running feet, dull and sporadic. Someone yelling his name. Bile rising in his mouth. Danny clung to the shoulders in front of him, anchoring him to the here and now, wings of darkness obscuring everything else.

“Danny.”

Steve.

Danny opened his eyes.

Steve was right there. Right frigging there. The swell of emotion rose to a tsunami of overwhelming desperation, tears pricking his eyes. Danny squeezed Steve’s forearms, trying to will him to understand. Those damn eyes were boring right through Danny, looking straight into every damn terror filled moment. 

“Grace?”

Like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, illuminating, chasing away the shades of fear, Steve smiled, “She’s fine, Danny. At HQ. With Kono.” The strings holding Danny’s spine straight released, tension flooding out of him and he sighed. Resting his head against a forehead he knew would be there, taking a deep breath and smelling that odd combination of aftershave and gun oil that was Steve, Danny sighed.

  *h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

As Steve climbed out of the SUV, Chin slamming the passenger side door, a wave of heat greeted them both. Noon day sun, reflected heat from the concrete underfoot, metal and cement warehouses adding their own reflected heat made for a warm welcome. 

HPD squad cars pulled in around them, Officers sprawling out like a determined army clad in black. “Spread out.  Take your assigned piers. Double check everything. Now!”

Like the well trained people they were, the HPD search teams fanned out, all with one purpose in mind. Find Danny. 

Chin and Steve had Pier 20, with four other HPD officers. Steve was running before he thought to make sure everyone was following. One quick glance assured him they were.  The warehouses weren’t entirely uniform, but similar enough that it felt mazelike, nightmarish running down and through causeways that looked so uniform. 

Any door that looked open, anything they could search instantly, they did. Chin kept a running monologue with Kono on his headset, pushing for manifest and allotment information. They needed to narrow the search area. Steve was in the focused mode of an op, alert for all movement, tracking his ‘team’, primed for action and need to respond to hostiles. The chatter on the radio was minimal, and mostly negative. Nothing there. Nothing here. No sight. No sign. No luck. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

“ _We got him!”_

Steve paused only long enough to hear _“Pier 22. Warehouse 4”_ before about turning and powering his legs in that direction. Chin was hard on his heels, calling for an ambulance and then confirming it was already on its way. 

Running was easy. What was waiting for him was hard. The gun felt right in his hand. The absence of Danny running alongside him was wrong. Chatter in his ears. Ok. The comfort of knowing his friend was ok. Unknown. No matter how fast Steve ran, it took years to reach Pier 22. Scanning the numbers on the walls, Steve headed left, Chin not stopping at all as they turned.

The sun was so bright, McGarrett nearly missed them, four, five people off in the distance. Outside in the open. 

Instinctively scanning the gaps between the buildings, the roof and skyline, Steve ran towards them, his heart pounding harder and harder with each step, each meter. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair, slicked back, head bent forward.

The HPD officers parted for him like waves before the prow of a ship, and Steve sank to his knees in front of Danny. “Where’s the ambulance? Get it here, now.”

McGarrett had no idea what to do. Where to touch Danny. His stomach roiled, churning unpleasantly, mouth dry, heart thudding. Danny looked up, blood shot eyes, bruises stark and deep, desperation and fear dilating his pupils, probably shock, and blood loss and...

Strong hands wrapped themselves around his forearms, thumbs pressing hard into the soft skin. Blue eyes scanning his face, eyes that were too wet, too shiny. Eyelashes clumped together. “Grace?”

“She’s fine, Danny. At HQ. With Kono.”

McGarrett poured as much reassurance into his voice as he could. Willed Danny to believe him. 

Danny’s sigh was the collapse of a building, the release of chains and ropes, the fall into clear blue sky from an airplane, parachute opening behind you. “Thank God.” 

Forehead to forehead, Steve closed his eyes for a moment and let that shared warmth of relief curl around them and settle his stomach, soothe his nerves, unbristle his hackles. Chin was shouting, a distant voice miles away, demanding the paramedics hurry up, talking to Kono. Steve opened his mouth, to say ... he had no idea what. Danny growled, his eyes closed, tight. “The bastard is on the way to my house. After a journal.”

Blue eyes, the banked fires of retribution held at bay by exhaustion tore through Steve. The shark smile was sharp and instant. “I’ll get him.”

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

To be continued in part 6

[Part 1](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58507.html)   [Part 2](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58887.html)   [Part 3](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/59198.html)    [Part 4](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/60521.html)   [Part 5](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/63751.html)  [Part 6](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/66568.html)   [Part 7](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/69466.html)

AN: Thank you for your patience. I will be posting the next chapters quicker. The ones with the comfort. *cracks fingers and knuckles* Time to get my comfort cap on. *winks* Hope this chapter was worth the wait. 

  



	6. Our Devoured Minds Part 6/8 (Hawaii 5-0)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.

Our Devoured Minds Part 6/8

Author: Tari_Roo

Rating: PG (Gen)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Steve would be bare-chested even more than he is, we would actually ‘see’ Danny trying to surf and Kono would be a secret Cylon. That is all. Wait… Chin would be as awesome as he is.

Summary:  Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny. 

Spoilers: Set in Season 1. No spoilers, but you kinda have to know the show, ok?

  


*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

Hospitals are meant to be quiet, right? Places of stillness and healing, oceans of tranquility. So unless Danny was greatly mistaken, something was seriously wrong at Honolulu General, because it sounded like a riot was taking place inside the ER. People screaming, alarms going off, kids crying, radio chatter on steroids. 

It was all just a little too much.

And Danny could hear someone talking to him. Steve maybe. But it was like one of those Charlie Brown cartoons, where the adults were just garbled sounds in a made up language. So Danny clung to the gurney, the sheet moist and cool under his hands, trying to ~~centre~~ center himself, reign the world back into left and right, and stop the merry go around. 

The ambulance ride hadn’t been too bad. But then he had been laying down at the time. Now he was sitting up. Why was he sitting up? 

A sharp burning pain, like the paper cut from hell made Danny pull away from the source, twisting to see what hurt. “Officer... Detective, please stay still. I’m almost done.”

Oh, right. Nurse Somethingorother was irrigating the cuts on his chest and sides, flushing out the salt and dirt rubbed in by thick fingers. That’s why he was sitting up too. Belatedly Danny looked down at his hands and remembered that only one was clutching the gurney. Idly tracing the upward sweep of his arm, he found Steve. He was holding Steve’s arm. Or was Steve holding his? 

“Hey.”

McGarrett smiled back and Danny’s voice sounded weird. “Wha?”

“Leave it, Danny.” Gently, why gently, Steve caught his right hand, and put it back on the gurney. “The oxygen is good for you, help clear your head.”

Oxygen?

Another snap of pain, sharp and intense and suddenly there were fingers in his side, touching bone, salting his bones. Danny jerked away from the pain, knowing it was futile because his hands were tied ...

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down. You’re ok. You’re ok.”

Steve swam into view again. McGarrett was always swimming. Liked showing off those ridiculous tats. 

“Show off.”

Again, Danny’s voice sounded wrong, and again Steve caught his hand gently. Why gently? What the hell was wrong?

“Nurse, he’s all over the place. Shock is a real...”

“I’m well aware, Commander. Don’t worry. We’re pushing fluids, IV is in place. His arterial pressure is less than ideal, but not in crisis. I need you to keep him calm, please, Commander.”

IV? Shock? What? Danny stared his hand, the one Steven was holding. There was no IV. Slowly Danny checked the hand clutching Steve’s arm. No IV there either. Just bandages. From the ties. And Candice slicing his wrists.

“Candice?”

McGarrett squeezed his hand and pasted on that professional ‘everything is going to be ok’ look. “She’s fine, Danny. Getting checked out like you.”

“Grace?”

Why was he asking about Grace? And why was his heart beating like that?

“Commander!”

“Hey, hey, Danno. She’s on her way, I promise. Grace is on her way.”

Danny blinked and Steve wavered, a mirage on a desert island. 

“How’s his blood pressure, Nurse?”

“Picking up. Just ... stay there ok.”

Something hurt again, but it was less intense. “Hey, hey. They’ve given you something local and low key for the pain. Want to get your vitals up and knock the shock on its ass before pumping in the good stuff. Ok?”

Who was Steve talking about? Was someone in trouble? Hurt? Was Grace hurt?

“Grace?”

There was a shift, change in positions. Steve changing hands, Nurse Whosit prodding his right side instead of the left. Danny tried to focus on Steve’s face, tried to swallow against the desert in his throat, tried to find stability. He’d been looking for an IV right? 

“It’s in your leg. They... Nurse Jones had to find a spot not already cut up, ok?”

What was in his leg? Danny tried to look, tried to move the hospital gown over his legs, but Steve didn’t release his hands. The instant shock of not being able to move jolted through him and Danny snapped his head up, searching for....

Steve. 

“Hospital?”

“Yeah, Danny, you’re in the hospital. You have an oxygen mask on, an IV in your leg and a hot nurse doctoring your cuts.” McGarrett was looking tired, lines around his eyes, mouth drawn. The grey at his temples seemed more pronounced, like he was going for the Mr Fantastic look. 

“I know that, nimrod,” Danny grumbled, shoving aside a passing notion about wrestling Chin for the right to be the Human Torch in their little Fantastic Four. “My house, the journal?” Williams hoped to hell he was making sense, because Steve stared at him for a second before sighing.

“Chin’s checking it out with a couple of HPD officers. Kono is on her way here.”

“Ok?”

The noise level in the ER was dying down, the unseen noise. The neat little privacy curtain kept the bustle and rush of the ER at bay. Danny drew in a deep breath, and then gasped as something sharp ‘pulled’ and dots danced in front of his yes. 

“Sorry, sorry. Don’t move.”

Strong, firm hands clasped his, anchoring him to the here and now and not the ‘then’. Steve’s solid presence in front of him blocked the flood of memories, and sensations. Danny really really wanted to look and see what the hell Nurse Jones was doing. But it helped that at least he could see Steve’s blue t-shirt, and the pale patterns left by bullet-proof vest.

“Jones? What...”

Jones’s voice sounded far, far away, like she was deep underground. “Not too sure. Either a bone splinter or something else jammed into this cut.”

Danny’s hands were shaking, his whole damn body was shaking, a rush of red rising like the tide to obscure his vision. “Broke. Razor,” he stammered, clinging onto Steve, trying not to close his eyes, fighting back the dark, so so afraid not to see again. He had to see. Just had to. 

“Got it.”

The pain vanished like a light bulb going off, only leaving the dim afterglow of agony, his heart beating loudly in his ears, but the red fading. 

“I got you, Danno.”

The swell of emotion was swift, unbidden, unwanted at those words and the subtext therein and Danny tried to bury it, shove it aside, because he wasn’t going to break down and start crying like a little girl. Not now. Not ever. 

“You done, yet, Nurse?”

Steve sounded pissed, like she was hurting him on purpose. Danny opened his mouth to chow his partner out, reign him in because she was doing her job. Fixing him. Sewing up the pieces. Putting the scarecrow back together. 

“Danno?”

“Monkey?”

Her voice was a siren call and Danny tried to stand, tried to go find his ‘monkey’. Steve’s damn annoying hands stopped him, but McGarrett shouted, “Kono! Over here.”

Batting ineffectually at those hands, Danny watched the green curtain, hoping, praying. _Please._ The curtain moved, like a glacial wind, and there was Grace. His Grace. She was drowning in an HPD breaker, eyes as wide as anything, hair wild and mussed. Steve was talking about some shit and Danny didn’t care. He scooted off the gurney, barefeet kissing cold tile and gasped, “Gracie.”

Her hesitation was a fraction of a second and then she was in his arms, face buried in his chest, tiny arms wrapped around his neck, squeezing, pressing her love into him. Anchoring him. She was crying, her tears soaking the ridiculous gown, but hell if Danny cared. His little girl was safe, right here, right now. 

“I got you, kiddo. I got you.”

Awkwardly Danny tried to stand, legs turning to jelly under him, but he quickly stiffened the muscles and sat back down on the gurney, his little girl wrapped around him like a living, breathing hug. He shot Kono a bright, happy smile of ‘thank you’ and she nodded, face closed off with emotion. “Glad you’re ok, Danny.”

Danny nodded. 

“Ah, that’s not a good idea...” 

“Let’s give them some space, Nurse Jones.”

Steve made the distractions disappear, and silence fell, the pair of them suddenly alone. All Danny could hear was Grace crying, the solid thud of her heart beating against his, her fingers entwined in his hair. Alive. Safe. That was all that mattered.

“You didn’t come.”

“I know, pumpkin. I wanted to. I really really did.”

Grace didn’t move, her face still pressed into his shoulder, a comforting solid pain that Danny had no intention of moving, disturbing. “Kono said a bad guy had you.” Her voice was muffled, choked with tears and blocked by his chest. But it sounded so so wonderful. 

“Yeah, yeah, he did.”

“Did you get him, Danno?”

Danny’s heart skipped a beat, momentarily back in that chair, sweltering in the heat of blackness and uncertainty. Tracing the curve of Grace’s spine through the breaker, Danny sighed, “I got him, Gracie. Got him good. He’s not hurting anyone ever again.”

Her nod against his chin was a promise, and she shifted even closer, pressed so tight into his side he was probably bleeding again. Danny might have the timing wrong, the bastard might still be walking free, but if Chin didn’t find him and Steve didn’t find him, Danny was going to. And he wasn’t going to use a razor and a blindfold. No questions. Just one damn bullet. 

The riot had moved on, found another block party to invade. The ER was an ocean of tranquility, of peace. Of clarity. White lights, cool greens, dark HPD blue. And Grace. His Grace. Safe and sound.

_ Thank you. _

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

Steve let the curtain fall closed behind him, its flimsy material barely masking the sounds within the small cubicle. Kono was pacing, her fists clenched, vibrating with suppressed emotion. McGarrett felt a little wrung out himself, like he’d just finished a marathon, legs shaking, heart still thudding with adrenalin.

“Shit, Boss, shit!”

Kono’s voice was whisper soft but the anger behind it raised goosebumps on Steve’s arms. He nodded, echoing the sentiment, and closed the distance between them. Kono shot the busy ER a cautious glare before meeting him halfway. “What the hell? Danny looks... I shouldn’t have brought Grace! Not to see that!”

Steve rubbed his mouth, vaguely nodding, half in agreement. He’d nearly called her and told her to go back to HQ. So very nearly. Grace shouldn’t have to see Danny like that – beat to hell, cut up and in pain. And if Danny had been thinking clearly, he would have told Steve the same thing. A daughter should not see her father ... like that. In fact, once Danny was feeling better and more himself, he was going to read both Steve and Kono the riot act for bringing Grace. 

But the look on Danno’s face when Grace walked in, the utter earth shattering relief of seeing her whole and untouched was worth it. Wasn’t it? And Grace needed to see her Dad, see that he was alive, even if alive was battered and bruised. And cut up like a ... piece of meat. A crazy jigsaw. Right? Right? 

The old nausea of this morning was back, a fresh mix of worry and relief, because how was Grace going to cope with the memories of today. How was Danny? Looking at Kono, Steve could see the same thoughts racing through her brain, as she bit her lip, chewing it. McGarrett chucked the worry wagon – it was useless anyway and picked up the threads of what he could do.

“Is Rachel close yet?”

Kono inhaled deeply, trying to pull her on professional mask and shook her head, “She called as I was about to call her and give her the good news. She’s still stuck on Maui, desperately trying to get someone to bring her back. She said something about Stan chartering a helicopter for her. She should be in Honolulu soon.”

Turning and scanning the room, his nerves still on edge, still looking for trouble, McGarrett grunted, “Good. Any word from Chin?” It was easier focusing on the case, pretending this was just a case. It wasn’t over, not yet. The bastard behind this was still out there, still a loose end. There was no time to sit back and unwind – lick their wounds.

Unfortunately Kono shook her head. “He’s still staking out Danny’s place. No one’s been inside yet, and he’s got HPD watching all angles. Right now he’s worried the perp is going make him and hightail it.”

Slowly curling and then uncurling his fist, Steve nodded. It was a risk. If he had eluded police so far, with no record, it meant he was a professional, or damn lucky. “I’m gonna head over to the woman they found with Danny, Candice. We need a description this guy asap and get it out to everyone.” 

Kono trailed him as he made his way through the crowds of patients and hospital staff. Steve spotted Officer Soto and caught his eye. Soto waved them over, and backed up to give them some space in the narrow area. “McGarrett?”

“They still busy with her?” Steve indicated towards the closed curtain where Candice was being treated. Soto nodded, “Yep. She was sounding pretty happy a few minutes ago, talking her head off, but she won’t be walking for a while – so I hear.”

Just then, a nurse parted the curtain and stepped out towards them. Steve caught her arm and smiled pleasantly, “Sorry. Nurse...” He scanned her name tag and continued, “Nurse Pualani, Steve McGarrett, Five-0. How is she? Can we take a statement?”

Nurse Pualani stared at him with beautiful brown eyes, her expression moving from surprised to worried. “Oh dear.”

Steve felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise at her gasp. He followed her mortified expression towards the curtain and was moving before she’d formed a single word. He pulled the curtain aside with more force than required, and as the rings on the rail overhead shrieked in protest, the empty bed was revealed.

 “I...”

The bed was rumpled, and used, a pile of bloody bandages and swabs on the table. Nurse Pualani was holding an instrument tray, and a used suture kit. Steve whirled on her, eyes flashing. The nurse stammered, “He, he... had a badge and said he was taking her into protective custody. They, they left about five minutes ago. Time, time was of the essence, he said.”

Officer Soto stared at the Nurse aghast and cried, “When? I was in the restroom for three seconds!”

Kono cursed and punched the Officer in the arm, “Sheesh, moron. It was long enough!” Steve though was scanning the ER, trying to spot anything suspicious or unusual. They might have passed the guy and Candice on their way over. Kono turned to the Nurse, “Call security now. Is she in a wheelchair?”

The Nurse nodded and stammered, “I ... yeah, yeah, she is. He... he was nice and sure she, she was out of it on ... pain killers. I...”

Steve grabbed the nearest internal handset and motioned for the Nurse to tell him the code for Security. Pualani stuttered out the extension and Steve barked through the phone, “Yes, McGarrett. Five-0. Seal the hospital. No one in and out. Keep your eyes peeled for a blonde woman in a wheelchair. Call in to HPD.”

As McGarrett put the handset down, a small fuse went off inside his brain and he was moving straight towards Danny’s curtained off area. “Crap!” Again Kono was hard on his heels, Soto trailing her. In seconds Steve was there, and he checked the number of feet peeking out the bottom of the curtain. Two sets. Danny, red angry rings of raw skin, flecked with blood from the ties, not bandaged yet. Two little feet, pink shoes, barely visible. 

“Danny?”

“Steven?”

McGarrett sighed and said slowly, “You ok in there?”

“Peachy. What’s up?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

Signaling Kono to step back, Steve hissed at Soto, “You stay right here and if you move, I swear I’ll make you wish you pissed yourself instead. Got it?” Soto paled but nodded like a bobble-head and planted himself in front of the curtain. Pulling Kono aside, Steve whispered, eyes darting everywhere, tracking all movement. 

“Fan out, keep in radio contact. Call in anything suspicious. We got to find her.”

Kono was frowning, face set in determination, “I don’t get it. Why would she just go with him, and not make a fuss, call out.”

“All good questions we’ll ask her when we find her,” Steve gritted out, itching to move. The bastard was here, not at Danny’s house, so either someone had tipped him off or ..... someone had tipped him off! How else did he know Danny had escaped, or that they were here, at Honolulu General? Another damn mole in HPD!

“Be careful,” was his last injunction to Kono, who gave him a grim smile in return. 

Steve hated urban combat situations. There were just too many variables, too many potential hostages and hostiles. Fortunately it was unlikely that there was more than one gunman on the loose in the hospital, but without knowing what he looked like, it was going to be difficult to find him. Spotting Security, Steve motioned for them to split up as well, one tailing Kono, the other with him.

Studying the exit signs and layout maps as he passed, Steve plotted a path he’d use to exit the building, one with the least number of eyes or people questioning him. As he left the bustle of the ER, the corridors grew quieter, but security increased. The Security Guard hissed, “We’re heading towards Maternity. Someone would have called in if he came this way.”

Agreeing with him, McGarrett turned towards the busier departments. They got as far as Oncology when Kono radioed in. “ _Found her, Boss. Radiology, 3 rd floor.”_

Kono sounded down and furious, so Steve ran quickly, leaving the chunky security guard behind. Found her, not them, or him. Her. Just Candice. Shit, shit, shit.

Sprinting down the stairs, Steve ran through the possible scenarios, isolating the most likely. The man behind this had been told about Danny and Candice’s escape. Had come for the one person who could ID him. And had done so right under HPD’s nose, and theirs. In the middle of a hospital. Trotting down the hall towards Radiology, Steve knew exactly what he’d find. 

Kono was leaning against the doorjamb of the entrance to one of the labs, her gun still out and pointed dejectedly at the floor. Mouth pursed in frustration, she sighed, “In here.”

The room was dark, quiet, and empty of personnel. A single wheelchair sat in the middle of the room, a female figure slumped inside, head rolled back. Crossing the distance, Steve’s boots squeaked on the clean tiles, the only real sound in the immediate area, the distant hum of a hospital in the background.

Candice, last name unknown, was dead. Eyes closed, head back, boneless and sloppy in death. She’d had time to clean up a little, her make up washed away, looking a little fresher. But now, her face was lax in death, at peace. Well aware it was useless, Steve reached out and checked for a pulse. “He must have injected her with something – the syringe is still on the counter over there. CSU are on their way,” Kono sighed, gun holstered, arms crossed against her chest, like she was holding herself together.

Boiling frustration surged through Steve, tainted with real fear. The man had walked right past Danny, and Grace, all of them and had taken Candice and then her life. She had survived a night of torture and terror, only die when everything seemed ok, safe. After saving Danny’s life. Helping him escape. 

“Shit!” 

Steve felt like hitting something, anything – repeatedly. Snapping at Kono, he snarled, “I want every single second of CCTV footage this hospital has for today in HQ, now!” Pointing at the Security Guard, he yelled, “And check in with the entrances – I want to know who has tried to leave the building!”

As the security guards ran to comply, Steve ran his hands through his hair, gritting his teeth. The bastard was gone – Steve was sure of it. Gone, lost in the wind. Again! 

“Call Chin. Get him back to HQ, but leave a black and white at Danny’s just in case. I want this SOB, now!”

Kono’s expression said it all. 

They wanted him.

For Danny.

And now for Candice.

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

Continued in Part 7  
[Part 1](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58507.html)   [Part 2](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58887.html)   [Part 3](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/59198.html)    [Part 4](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/60521.html)   [Part 5](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/63751.html)  [Part 6](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/66568.html)   [Part 7](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/69466.html)  


  



	7. Our Devoured Minds Part 7/8 (Hawaii 5-0)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.

Our Devoured Minds Part 7/8

Author: Tari_Roo

Rating: PG (Gen)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Steve would be bare-chested even more than he is, we would actually ‘see’ Danny trying to surf and Kono would be a secret Cylon. That is all. Wait… Chin would be as awesome as he is.

Summary:  Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny. 

Spoilers: Set in Season 1. No spoilers, but you kinda have to know the show, ok?

  


*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

_ Saturday  _ Night

Danny was asleep.

Steve wasn’t even remotely tired, his second wind only kicking in now. Years of late night ops, differing time zones had made ‘oh-dark’ a familiar friend and Steve was all set for an all-night vigil. A cup of coffee was cooling in his hand, filling the room with a heady aroma contrasting the stringent antiseptic odors. The coffee from the cafeteria was surprisingly good, and the night shift nurse had given him a packet of real jam doughnuts.

_ ‘Cos you’re cops... and well...  _

The gesture, the fact that she’d taken the time to track down fresh, gooey pastry for the scattered, wild eyed Navy Seal and his stressed team – and injured partner, had really touched him. Brought an actual lump to his throat, as he stood in the busy hospital hallway, the guilt about the girl’s death still gnawing on his guts. 

There was one doughnut left, for Danny. 

They hadn’t sutured his wounds – not all of them – yet. 

Danny was in a private room, with two armed HPD Officers outside his door and Steve by his side. Visiting hours did not apply when there was the threat of an unknown assailant and kidnapper at large.  Now, with the late hour and privacy guaranteed by heavily armed law officers, the room was quiet and still.

In the gloom, Danny seemed peacefully at rest. The muted light through the closed blinds and underneath the door was barely enough to pick out distinct features, for which Steve was grateful. It was difficult looking at Danny without a tide of anger surging to epic proportions. The doctor was watching for infection, leaving the larger, angrier cuts and wounds open. Cleaned out, covered with gauze and soft bandages, but not neatly sutured. Danny looked ... held together. Like a broken plate or toy, put back together and held in place with tape. 

Hypertrophic scars.

Infection.

Salt.

The visitor’s chair was stiff and unyielding, not one designed for hours-long bedside vigils, which was surprising considering how many people must have sat slumped, like Steve, watching their loved ones and friends. Talking. Visiting. A room like this should have the most comfortable chairs in the world to offer the weary, worried guest a modicum of comfort.

Danny twitched, fingers flickering as he moved in his sleep. Medicated sleep was both a boon and a curse. An escape from the waking nightmare of reality, but also an impossible nightmare to escape once asleep. Hand on his mouth, fingering the bristle of stubble on his chin, Steve studied Danny’s half seen face, watching for signs of distress, for nightmares born of memories.

You could never tell with Williams. Sometimes it was all you could do to get him to shut up, but other times, he was worse than a closed book. You had to pry and dig to find out some things. Heck, there were whole swaths of Danny’s life that Steve had no clue about. Steve at least had the blanket excuse of ‘I can neither confirm ~~or~~ nor deny’ to cover the aspects of his adult life he did not want to share. Danny just didn’t bother to mention crap that bothered him, or he exploded with information accompanied by expressive hand gestures. 

There was a good chance Danny would never tell Steve everything about the last twenty hours and all that he’d endured. That he’d keep a good portion of his feelings and fears to himself. But there was just as good a chance that by Monday, Danny would be yelling at him, at the top of his lungs, sharing details Steve would rather never hear. Steve might end up with a combination of both – things he’d never know, and shit he wished he could scrub out of his brain. 

Grace was gone.

Whisked away by Rachel to the questionable safety of a hotel for the night. Rachel had stayed long enough to make sure Danny was ok, and had let Grace linger and hug her father’s leg, until the surgical intern indicated he wanted to suture those wounds deemed fresh enough to stitch. Grace didn’t want to leave. Rachel didn’t want to stay, couldn’t bear to. 

Dazed, groggy, and in pain, Danny had stared at Grace, her tears held in potentia, a hairsbreadth from spilling. He looked so out of it, so beyond figuring out for himself if he should let his girl go, or beg Rachel to let her stay. Rachel had hovered, for once so uncertain, so ... exhausted, that Steve had stepped in, and gathered Grace into a hug. 

He could still feel her shivering – like she had after the attack at her house. Like she had in HQ. Even with Danny safe, she still shivered.

_ Please, Uncle Steve. I wanna stay with Danno. _

Who said staring down arms dealers and terrorists was scary. Try a little girl, so close to crying a single word would unplug the dam and the little town in the valley was doomed. 

McGarrett had no idea what he’d said, or how he managed it, but Grace left with Rachel, her gaze lingering on Danny. Danny had matched her look for look, unable to call her back, reluctant to let her go. 

Sighing, Steve shoved those thoughts away, and checked his phone. The call to the Marshall’s office in New York had been brief, and full of questions Steve couldn’t answer. But he’d passed the message on. Frank Marks needed to be moved, given a new identity. That at least was one less thing for Danny to worry about. Chin and Kono were still working, trying to trace Vizzini, or whatever his name was. The list of charges was growing, the warrant full and ready to be issued. They just needed a face and a name worth the paper it was printed on. 

Nothing. They had nothing.

Frowning, Steve tucked the phone away. 

They had to catch the bastard. They just had to.

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

_ Sunday Morning  _

Kono fought the yawn that threatened to split her face in half, and the computer screen flickered as she blinked back the tears. HQ was quiet – at last. Just her left. The rest of the HPD personnel had faded over the evening, either going home or exchanging places with the new shift, who were deployed to run down leads, knock on doors, question anyone with any modicum of information. 

Her eyes felt dry, gritty and wrung out. She had been staring at CCTV footage for hours. Footage from the hospital, traffic cameras from the harbor, Danny’s neighborhood, airport, car rental offices, hotels - hours and hours, and hours of footage. 

Nothing.

In the age of Big Brother and of the Patriot Act, how was it possible for someone to escape all cameras. It just simply wasn’t. 

Kono sighed, and started the facial recognition search one more time. It was now about finding the same face in different places. At the hotel and the hospital. At the harbor and the airport. Any connection, any remote chance of the same man being caught on two or more cameras. Reality was though – how did you chose which face to check. As good as the computers in HQ were, they couldn’t run all the faces from every crowd, not in the time they needed. The volumes were just too... extreme. The guy who had orchestrated Danny’s kidnapping and who had sliced him up like raw fish could be on a plane by now. Could be getting away scot free.

The hooker Candice had been too careful to be caught on camera often. She knew the hotel too well, and kept a low profile. The streets around the harbor were too busy. Given 48 hours, or even 72, Kono was certain that the computer search would yield a result. Time was not on their side.

Elbows on the table, Kono rubbed her eyes, willing a spark of inspiration to flare, or for the search to find – something. The sun was already pinking the horizon, the night disappearing and another day dawning. You couldn’t hear the ocean from the office, but if you knew what to listen for, and in the quiet hours of pre-dawn you could almost hear the crash of breakers. Almost.

Olekane, with his lawyer present had firmly and repeatedly said that Jurgens was the only one he had had dealings with. He was their source of guns and their driver while on the island. He had suggested the harbor and the storage space as a quiet place. But Olekane had not seen the mystery man calling the shots. He’d only seen Jurgens – until yesterday, Friday, when the other two men had climbed in the car with Jurgens. That was it. Nada. Nothing else. 

Not even the threat of Homeland Security and terrorist charges had changed his story. 

Taking a deep breath, Kono queued up a few more searches, expanding the parameters  and walked away from the computer. Danny’s surf board was still in his office, for some unknown reason. He’d bought it second hand and had tried surfing just the once. With her. Before the fake Tsunami. Now he joked he had to keep it off the beach, just in case. Couldn’t risk another fake Tsunami. 

Kono grabbed the board and dragged it outside. Her bikini was relatively dry from her interrupted surf session today, no yesterday. The main beach would be busy with tourists learning how to surf. But Kono didn’t care.

Running through the surf, Danny’s board under her arm, Kono dived into the break, heading out as fast as she could. 

Sitting astride the board, bobbing gently with the swell, Kono watched the newbies learn, try and fail to catch a wave. The only ‘real’ surfers were the instructors. Everyone else was out of place. Trying to fit in, conquer the unconquerable. Failing to understand that you did not tame the ocean. You rode the wild bronco in. The only thing that broke – was you. 

Danny was...

Kono covered her eyes, blocking out the glistening ocean awash with silver and gold highlights. Blocked out the sound of breaking waves, the roar of constant hunger. Ignored the cool dawn breeze that tugged at her hair, and chilled her skin. In the darkness, the self-imposed black, Kono remembered Danny at the hospital, sitting on the gurney, face alight with joy at the sight of Grace. Without invitation, the tears came, leaking steadily underneath her hands.

How could someone do that? How could you sit there and calmly, precisely cut and cut and cut until there was more red than white. What sort of man could do that? 

Struggling to breath, her chest heaving, Kono gasped and swallowed against the tears. 

Under the harsh fluorescent lights Danny had looked like an extra from a horror movie. Deep red lines all over his arms and shoulders, dark with scabs in places, bleeding in others. Moving to hug Grace had made some bleed. Even from where she stood Kono could see the deep bruises of a handprint around his throat. More bruises. Everywhere. 

You saw ugly, horrible shit as a cop. You did. It was just – part of the job. But your friend. Your partner. The guy who mangled more Hawaiian names than a garbage disposal and insisted on shooting pineapples when he got drunk – he wasn’t supposed to look like that.

Who did that? Who could?

Danny teased her about being a rookie. But she never really felt like one – not really. They, her team, all treated her like she was ... like she was Kono. Not the rookie. Not the girl. Just Kono.

Today, yesterday, Kono felt like a rookie. Right now she felt the weight of grief pressing on her for a friend who could have died. And she would never be ready to feel that. Never.

Opening her hands and brushing away the tears angrily, Kono sniffed and tried to find something else to focus on. Danny was safe and alive. Team Five-0 would find the SOB who had done this and it would all be over. 

Wiping her nose on the back of her hand, Kono patted the board beneath her fondly. Leaning back, she dived into the water, her tears lost in the great ocean.

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

_ Sunday Afternoon _

Chin stared at the small note. 

Danny’s apartment was exactly as he had left it on Saturday. Exactly. Except for this note. 

After finding Danny at the harbor, Chin had charged off with the HPD squad cards in tow to hopefully catch the man responsible at Danny’s home. They had arrived to find no one. And Chin had sat in his car for hours, waiting, watching for a break. Hoping that the bastard would make a mistake and come for the information he needed.

The need to ‘see’ Danny, to make sure he was ok, had eventually spurred Chin to leave two HPD officers to watch the apartment. A quick trip to the hospital, a food run for the folks still working at HQ, and then Chin had joined the HPD detectives questioning hookers and car rental agents, and ... half of Ohau it felt. 

After hours of fruitless searching, and a brief cat nap in the car, Chin had decided on a whim to check Danny’s apartment for ... something. Anything. A clue they might have missed. The HPD officers had nodded at him, and confirmed that no one had approached the little house in hours. Just the odd neighbor passing by.

And now, Chin was staring at a small, handwritten note inside Danny’s closet. A note in the place of the journal.

_ Better luck next time. _

Chin had left the journal in the closet in the hope that the perp would see it and think he was free and clear. Make the mistake they needed him to make.

Mechanically, Chin thumbed the speed dial on his phone and waited for Kono to pick up.

_ “Chin?” _

His cousin sounded... well, she sounded like he felt.

“The tracker – in the journal. Is it working?”

Muffled sounds of Kono cursing and moving around echoed through the line, and she said overly brightly, _“Yes, yes. It’s still ... at Danny’s.”_

“Shit,” Chin snarled, whirling around looking for the journal. He spotted it in the kitchen sink, half open, a page torn out of it. Yelling into the phone, Chin cried, “He’s been and gone. Damnit! Those morons outside missed him!”

“ _What?”_

Frustrated anger roared through Chin and he slammed his fist into the kitchen wall. “Damnit! Kono, please, please tell me you have something! Anything?”

_ “No. Chin, I’m ... didn’t you... didn’t leave a camera or something?” _

Hope sparked inside him, and Chin slammed his hand over his forehead. He was the moron. Of course. Chin strode over to the small bookshelf near the door that housed a few books on police procedure and Frank Sinatra. And a battered copy of the Prisoner of Azkaban. On top of the bookshelf, behind a wilting plant, Chin’s spare camera phone sat. He’d left it behind on a whim, a hunch, a half dazed inspiration. No time to set up a proper camera. Not when the perp might see the HPD car and run. So a fully charged camera phone, recording on the lowest pixel settings was now their last hope.

_ Please! _

Chin picked up the phone and saw that it was still recording – battery and memory still ok.

“I’m sending you the file, Kono. Please tell me we get enough for facial recognition.”

It took forever to send the file and even longer for Kono to scan through the hours of recordings. But just as Chin was about to freak out and yell at her to work faster, Kono cried out in delight, “ _Got him_!”

Chin was moving before he realized it – moving for his car outside. “You running it?”

“ _It’s poor resolution and from a distance, but it’ll do, cuz.”_

Gunning the engine, Chin spun out into the street and raced towards HQ. He had to call McGarrett but first, he’d wait for confirmation, decent information. Ignoring the foul looks and angry gestures as he drove, Chin eventually stopped at a red light, thrumming with restrained energy, just like his car. As he watched the traffic blur past, Chin tapped rapidly on the steering wheel, ear pressed to the phone.

“ _Oh, shit! No, no,... damn!”_

Chin felt his heart plummet and his foot twitched over the accelerator. “What?”

_ “I got him. No ID yet, but facial rec tagged him in recent CCTV footage. At the airport. Two hours ago.” _

Shit indeed. “Is he on a flight?”

Kono’s sigh was as an expressive one, full of his own frustrated anger. _“I... yes. Direct to Tokyo. Left ninety minutes ago. The passport information is coming in now... ah, John Sergent. Irish national. I...”_

She trailed off, and Chin nodded in agreement – it was wrong. All wrong. How had he slipped by them? Stayed ahead of them the whole time?

Sighing, Chin said, “Get hold of the State Department, and make sure they start liaising with Tokyo PD. If... if they can, they must grab him on the other side. Hold him and ...”

_ “I’m on it.”  _ Kono ended the call abruptly and Chin belatedly realized that the light was green and there was a collective irate hooting behind him. Waving in apology, Chin edged forward, at a much slower pace than before. Eyes firmly on the road, hands white knuckled on the steering wheel, Chin bit his lip and ... held it together.

There was still a chance. Steve had connections with a long reach. They had a face now, a name, even if it was maybe a false one. But, there was a chance. There just had to be.

Chin turned slowly onto the street leading to HQ, breathing deep, trying to calm down, to maintain his composure.

By the time he walked into the main computer room, Kono was waving at him, still on the phone. Chin though, didn’t return her smile, and instead got down to work. He’d call Steve when they had good news. And not before.

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

_ Monday afternoon _

Steve quietly closed the backdoor and made his way down the yard towards the open beach. After a very long fruitless day, it felt moderately good doing something – making a small difference. Danny had been discharged, but Steve had argued about him going home – alone. And maybe the memories of the weekend from hell had been too much or too fresh, but Danny hadn’t fought the suggestion come order that he recuperate at Steve’s.

Grace had spent the afternoon with her Dad, before Rachel and Stan had picked her up. Worn out, Danny had headed down to the deck chairs on the small beach, to have a nap. Williams was moving slowly, and got tired quickly. In fact, too often, Steve caught Danny staring off into space, lost in thought, or lost in memories. 

The grass underfoot turned to sand and Steve coughed a little, alerting Danny to his arrival. Without looking up, Danny waved a finger or two in McGarrett’s direction. Steve handed Danny a pale yellow glass filled with fruit juice, a jaunty little pink umbrella floating on a cherry island inside.

Lifting his sunglasses, Danny stared askance at the drink and wrinkled his forehead and grumbled, “You ran to the store for the umbrella didn’t you?”

“Yep,” Steve smiled as he sat on the deck chair next to Danny.

“A normal person would have driven.”

“A normal person says thank you.”

Danny mumbled thanks as he took a cautious sip. Instantly he made a face and handed the drink back. “Non-alcoholic fruit things are just wrong.”

Steve shoved the hand holding the glass gently away and smirked, “But right for people on the good painkillers. Drink up.”

Grumbling all the while, Danny took another sip and deliberately put the drink down on the arm of the chair.

“Danny, I...”

A single finger was held up, and demanded silence. In the obedient stillness Danny said quietly, “Steven. I am sitting here, drinking shit and watching the ocean. And that is all I want to do.”

This time a hand forestalled Steve’s open mouth, and Danny, still not looking at Steve, continued, “I am watching the ocean.” There was an accompanying wave of hands to indicate where the ocean was, just in case Steve was blind. 

“So, the bastard got away. Ok. So, you didn’t catch him. Ok.” Danny’s voice trembled a little, betraying just how much it was **not** ok. 

“Danny...”

Bulldozing on, Danny snarled, “Watching the ocean!” and still did not look at Steve. In the beat of tense silence, Danny continued, “Maybe tomorrow, or Wednesday or hell, maybe Thursday, I am not going to be ok with it. I may freak out at you little – or a lot. Shit, Steve, I am may well lose it completely because Tokyo lost the SOB, because you lost him and because ....”

Danny trailed off, chest heaving a bit. Steve reached out instinctively and Danny flinched away from his hand. Ignoring his friend, and soldiering on, Danny said calmly, “But right now – I am watching the ocean. Drinking this ... wonderful cocktail ala crap. And ...”

“Watching the ocean,” Steve finished, sighing a little. 

“Correct,” Danny waved, pointing at the ocean and Steve and generally making it very clear that if Steve wanted to stay, he had to watch the ocean too.

Undaunted by the ire, not when there was so much residual underlying hurt, Steve sighed, “Danny, you can’t just pretend or...”

“I swear to God, McGarrett! I will stab you in the eye with that umbrella if you don’t shut up. This is a talk free zone. No words. No sharing. No ... nothing. Just watching.... the damn ocean!”

“Ok.”

Steve leant back in the chair, worry keeping his gaze on Danny. 

“I am not the ocean.” A pointed hand waved towards the sea. Steve noticed the fine tremor in that hand, and his gaze lingered on the bandaged wrist hiding horrific wounds. Danny didn’t want to talk – yet. That was ok. There was time. They had all the time in the world it seemed. No perp – yet. No talking – yet. Steve nodded and settled in silence.

The minutes ticked by and Steve fought the urge to fidget, and ended worrying the wood of the deck chair.

Clearly breaking his own imposed silence zone, Danny sighed and without looking at Steve, said, “Thank you. For saving Grace.”

“I... sure, sure. Always, Danny. always.”

“And thank you for ... bringing her to the hospital.”

Steve nodded, not bothering to correct Danny that it’d been Kono.

“I ... I... “

Silence hung between them, the unspoken words lost in the soft lapping of the waves. 

“I wish you hadn’t brought her... I wish to God you hadn’t. But thank you.”

Steve sighed and risked a glance at Danny. He had his eyes closed, face turned to the sun.

“You can rant at me later.”

“Already on my list. And I do not rant. I talk emphatically.”

Steve smiled. Danny didn’t.

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

AN: *cough* Do you all know what the doldrums are? This is my attempt to kick the comfort doldrums because now that hurt is done... my interest is waning. There’ll be one more concluding part  J

After watching 2.15 (which was awesome) I thought – poor Danny. He really needs to catch a break. Did you all enjoy 2.15?

Continued in Part 8  
  
[Part 1](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58507.html)   [Part 2](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/58887.html)   [Part 3](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/59198.html)    [Part 4](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/60521.html)   [Part 5](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/63751.html)  [Part 6](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/66568.html)   [Part 7](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/69466.html)   [Part 8](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/74661.html)

  



	8. Our Devoured Minds Part 8/8 (Hawaii 5-0)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.

Our Devoured Minds Part 8/8

Author: Tari_Roo

Rating: PG (Gen)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Steve would be bare-chested even more than he is, we would actually ‘see’ Danny trying to surf and Kono would be a secret Cylon. That is all. Wait… Chin would be as awesome as he is.

Summary:  Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny. 

Spoilers: Set in Season 1. No spoilers, but you kinda have to know the show, ok?

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

It was hot. Uncomfortably so. 

The hood of the Camaro under his butt was reaching uneasy temperature levels and Steve inched to the left, hoping to spare his buttocks some low grade frying. He’d offered to go with Danny to the small memorial service for Candice, but Danny had refused. Quite vocally.

So, McGarrett was waiting in the parking lot of the cemetery, waiting for Danny to return, slowly baking to death, which was pretty apt considering where he was. Convenient too. 

Squinting against the rising sun, early morning turning into mid morning, Steve sighed and folded his arms against his chest. If he’d known his last minute play to help Danny through this would be shot down with a, ‘You stay the hell here, McGarrett,’ he wouldn’t have bothered to wear a suit. 

The gravesite was just within eyesight, the small group of mourners clustered together. A pigeon bursting out of the tree overhead startled Steve, and he looked up, following its flight towards the east. When he looked back, the service was over and Danny was limping towards him, cane digging into the soft lawn with angry emphasis.

The cane had been a surprise.

Steve had memorized Danny’s chart, and the discharge orders. Williams should not need a cane. His ACL injury was not flaring up so ….

Reluctant to poke his partner, Steve had said nothing and Danny had said nothing. And now, as McGarrett watched him limp towards the car, he tried to judge if the limp was ‘real’ or maybe just… psychosomatic. 

Danny’s true injuries were hidden by a dress shirt and dark suit – and of course the ubiquitous tie. His face was healing up nicely, bruises yellowing, and cuts either scabbed over or already pink lines. The high shirt collar hid most of the bruises on his neck, but the deep blue and red marks tipped the collar like an obscene tattoo.

The cane was worrying though. 

Worrying that Danny felt he had to hide behind it, or rather that he needed something to hide behind. 

Danny had grumbled that he’d already seen the police appointed psychiatrist, and that Grace was getting her own counseling, but maybe Steve should chaperone the next session and make sure Danny was actually going in. Seeing the psychiatrist from the parking lot as she entered the building, was not an option Steve felt Danny had.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Danny didn’t look up as he walked past, his curt words directed at the sky, ground, air in general. Steve raised an eyebrow, but unlocked the car and slide in behind the wheel. Danny took a little longer to edge into the car, his eyes hidden by his shades but the pain and stiffness still evident in his posture and small hisses.

Steve tried not to ‘hover’, and projected patience, like he had all the time in the world, ‘cos he did. Finally Danny was in and an involuntary sigh escaped him. Steve waited a moment, wondering if he should ask, say something. But Danny was leaning against the window, one hand rubbing his knee, like it was aching, and the other knotted at his forehead, tense with suppressed emotion. 

“You waiting for something? Or just feeling slow today?”

Sharp, touchy and hesitant. Nice complex little combination.

Steve smiled and started the car. 

“Nice service?”

“No.”

“Well attended?”

“No.”

Steve had seen a few of the mourners arrive, after Danny. They’d either shot him dirty looks, because he was a cop. Or given him a sad little wave. Most had been women, probably friends and colleagues. 

Giving up on the small talk, Steve took the turn back towards his place, checking the time as he did so. It took Danny a few minutes to realize which direction they were going and he groused, “I thought we were going to the office.”

“Nope.”

“Then you can take me home.”

McGarrett gripped the wheel a little tighter, but smiled, “No. Team lunch – at my place. Rachel is bringing Grace over.”

Despite the mix of good and bad news, Danny didn’t move, posture unchanged, but he grunted. Danny hadn’t argued about staying with Steve initially but now he was grumbling about going back to that tiny little apartment. Steve wasn’t having any of that. Not where Danny could lie around, alone, and wallow in guilt and pain. 

They all had the week off, officially. Unofficially, everyone but Danny was still working – working Danny’s case.  

John Doe, John Sergent, Vizzini, might be in the wind, but Five-0 had not given up.

Either way, middle of the week or not, they were having a barbeque at his place, Chin and Kono could spend some more time with Danny that wasn’t inside a hospital and well, Danny could see Grace.

Danny’s cries for Grace had woken Steve up the night before. Twice.

It would take time, everything did, and with counseling and healing, Danny would bounce back, maybe a little harder at first, but he’d come back to them. Right now, Danny was a riot of emotion and turmoil, unwilling and unable to find the humor in anything. It didn’t help that every time he looked in a mirror he was reminded of his ordeal.

As Steve turned into his driveway, Kono and Chin’s cars were already parked on the street. Kamekona had supplied the shrimp, but was unable to come. 

In the silence inside the car once the engine was off, Steve paused and prayed that the rest of the day would go ok. Risking a glance at Danny, Steve checked for signs that his partner might need his next dose of painkillers. Danny had lowered his shades and was looking out of the window, at the ocean barely visible through the trees.

“Danno?”

Drawn from his thoughts, Danny mumbled, “Hmmm?”

“Come on, I’ve got a fruit drink with your name on it.”

“Rather have a beer.”

Whatever awkwardness might have lingered disappeared the moment Danny stepped onto the outside deck and Kono enveloped him in a hug. Judging by Danny’s expression, it was just right. Not hard enough to hurt, but warm enough to settle his hackles. 

Leaving Danny to Kono, who was surprisingly good at fussy over grouchy invalid cops, Steve joined Chin at the grill. His dad had refused to install a gas grill, or hell, even an electric one, so Chin was still watching the coals, waiting for them to be ready to grill some meat. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You want a beer?”

At Chin’s nod, Steve took up his bartender slash host duties. The moment Kono saw the fruity monstrosity Steve was making for Danny, she wanted one too. Chin was happy with his beer, and Danny … Danny was slouched on one of the padded chairs, gaze fixed on the ocean. Again. 

“He ok?”

Chin’s face was blank, but his concern obvious. Busy shaking the cocktail mixer, Steve shrugged, “Nope. Kinda, I don’t know, withdrawn and touchy. But it’s to be expected. Just got to give him time.”

“And closure,” Chin sighed.

To this Steve mused, “Maybe, and I know it’ll make us all feel better making sure that bastard pays, but it doesn’t change anything for Danny, I think.”

Kono was sitting next to Danny, chopping away at vegetables and salad ingredients, her concentration more on Williams than the salad, judging by the odd slices. “Is it just shrimp?” Steve asked. Chin shook his head, small smile breaking out, “Nah, got some pork chops and steak for you. Well, for Danny. With extra pineapple.”

Together they both hissed, “No pineapple.”

Danny didn’t hear them. Or pretended not to.

Grace and Rachel arrived just as Chin slapped on the first set of steaks, Grace’s little girl shoes slapping a rapid staccato on the deck.

“Danno!”

She hurled herself into his open arms and for the first time that day, his shades were off, and a smile on his face. Danny pulled her onto his lap and instantly she started to giggle, as he whispered nonsense into her ear. Steve shared a sad smile with Rachel who was standing in the doorway. She looked haggard, circles under her eyes. Steve offered her a beer and she took it with a nod of thanks. 

“Thanks for coming.”

“Well it was this or listen to Grace whine all afternoon. And frankly, I’d rather be here than at home.”

Grace was sipping Danny’s drink, her eyes wide at the size of the massive glass and floating cherries. “Hey, Stephen! Monkey wants an umbrella too.”

“Coming up.”

Steve gently tucked a bright green umbrella behind Grace’s ear and her smile lit up the sky. “Thanks, Uncle Steve.”

For all that Grace was there and Danny’s mood had lightened, lunch was a quiet affair. Talk revolved around interesting island news and funny HPD cases. Nothing about the events of the weekend, and certainly nothing about their current progress. Grace powered through a massive shrimp burger and half of Danny’s salad, but Williams just picked at his food.

He’d even rolled his eyes when Steve had handed him his pills, but had nonetheless swallowed them down. 

As Steve sat in his chair, belly full of slightly overdone steak, it’d felt good to sit with the team like this, and just be. But there was no shaking the little grey cloud hanging over them. It wasn’t the same without Danny’s laughter and mini-rants about whatever had irritated him that day, week or even year. Chin, Kono and Steve took up most of the conversation, Rachel and Grace chipping in, but Danny only answered direct questions and even then mostly with grunts.

Dessert was shave ice also courtesy of Kamekona, but only Kono and Grace had any. 

At some point, Danny fell asleep and rather than disturb, Kono and Rachel coaxed Grace inside to wash up and play a game or something. Chin quietly beavered around the grill, taking in the trays and plates, and eventually left Steve on watch while Danny slept. The silence that fell was hushed, unnatural, the kind people made when they were trying too hard, hoping too much. Danny did not look relaxed as he slept, his hands twitched, brow occasionally creased with a frown. Steve idly checked his phone as he sipped his beer.

He should probably go in and help the others clean up, but he didn’t want to leave Danny alone. A small giggle broke the silence and Steve could smell melting marshmallow, or maybe burnt marshmallow. Smores were in progress. Leaning back, Steve caught a glimpse of the disaster brewing in his kitchen and smiled. 

The shift was subtle, a sudden intake of breath and Danny was awake, his eyes slowly moving, scanning the area, no doubt trying to figure out where he was. 

Danny’s eyes were half hooded, a sliver of blue visible amidst the darkness of the rings under his eyes, the bruises and shadows that haunted him. One lazy afternoon with friends and family was really going to make much of a difference, but Steve had hoped to at least shake some of the melancholy that dogged Danny. 

“Hey.” Steve claimed the seat next to Danny, the slats of the deck chair cool under his butt. Danny flicked his eyes at Steve in acknowledgement, but retained his studied stare of the ocean. McGarrett’s half a dozen different opening statements dried up and for a moment, he just sat there, watching Danny. Williams did not seem inclined to broach the silence either, his half drunk fruity monstrosity sitting in a pool of condensation, the cherries gone, the umbrella rolling forgotten on the deck. 

A couple of birds darted overhead, their dark silhouettes fleeting shadows in the thick golden sunshine. Gracie’s laugh from inside the house was muted; dull, but a bright note nonetheless. The air still smelled of roasting, grilled meat, even if the meal was long gone. The pool at the base of the huge glass grew until it reached ‘too much’ and a long trickle of water spilled over the arm of the arm, splashing like singular rain onto the deck. 

Steve rubbed his mouth, tracing the outline of his teeth with his bottom lip. “How do you do it?”

Danny’s voice was rough, and sounded like he hadn’t spoken in a year. Sometimes it felt like he hadn’t – at least the old Danny. This Danny, the one trying to pull back all the pieces didn’t sound right even when he spoke.

“What?”

A thousand possible answers danced at Steve’s fingertips, a keen thrill of hope burning through him, that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to help. Shrinks were great, but sometimes you needed someone who understood. 

“Stop thinking.”

For half a second Steve considered his usual response, a launch into a back and forth, him taking affront at the implication that he didn’t think. But Danny still wasn’t looking at him, eyes fixed in the distance, and he was radiating tension, suddenly, like he was in danger, or Steve was a threat, or something…

Instead, McGarrett inhaled slowly and on the exhale said, “It’s not easy switching your brain off after an Op. Especially one that went pear shaped, or worse, if someone died. Keep on thinking about what you could have done, should have done – regretting or second guessing what you did.”

Danny’s fist tightened, the red lines on his wrist darkening with the motion, even as his knuckles whitened. McGarrett considered repeating the standard answers, the usual response about therapy, time and more therapy. But Danny wasn’t asking Steve for the standard response – he was asking how ‘he’ did it, how Steve handled situations like this. Swallowing, Steve continued, “Honestly, for me, it’s a combination of things.”

The instinct to look away, hide a little bit was massive, but Steve kept his gaze on Danny, hoping his friend would eventually reciprocate. “PTSD is complicated and crazy, and to this day sometimes the smallest thing, a touch, a smell can trigger memories I thought I had dealt with. Hell, living in this house is a nightmare sometimes.”

At that Danny met his gaze, Danny’s eyes hot and red with suppressed emotion. “Shit,” was all he said, but Steve nodded, agreeing. “I wasn’t here when my Dad died, but I still hear the gunshot, and Hesse’s voice. Sometimes.”

Danny stared at him, eyes wide, mouth a little open, staring like he was a mystery to be solved and the answer to all his problems. McGarrett sighed and said, “You focus on the here and now. Remind yourself over and over again that it’s gone. That there is nothing you can do to change it.”

At this Danny’s face crumpled, not with emotion but with disbelief and he snorted, “Oh, like you were, hell are, Mr Cool, Calm and Collected when it comes to Wo Fat.”

Steve’s pulse skipped a beat, like it always did when _that_ name was spoken, and he shrugged, “But I keep it together when it’s not, right?”

Danny stared at him, studying his face, eyes boring into Steve’s. “You’re batshit insane 101% of the time, Stephen. Maybe I shouldn’t be asking you anything about mental health.”

“Then trust me on how to get through the day, Danno. Give yourself time and therapy but for now… today, just focus on the fact that Gracie is here, safe. That you are. Keep telling yourself that, over and over until you believe it and …”

“It never becomes true, Steve. Never. Not even if I leave the force and Five-0 and the goddamned island. I have made too many enemies to ever – EVER – stop watching my back, or worrying about some damn ex-con, whatever, coming after my family. EVER!”

Danny’s voice shook with anger and fear and the sharp rise in volume had drawn the attention of the others inside. Steve waved Chin and Kono back, hoping to hell Danny didn’t clam up now, and when he turned back to his friend, Danny was vibrating with anger, hands shaking. Leaning forward, those shaky hands covering his mouth, Danny mumbled, “I just want to grab Grace and run. I know it doesn’t make sense, but it’s all I can think about, keeping her safe and getting … away.”

Nodding, Steve understood the feeling well – all too well. Shifting a little closer, hoping it wouldn’t startle Danny, McGarrett injected as much sincerity into his voice as he could, “Danno, you’re feeling like the walls are closing in and there’s no possibility of any escape. Trust me on this though, if you run, when you run, you just take the walls with you. They catch up. At least if you are with people you trust, people who can watch your back, then… you can focus on the here and now and… let them help.”

Shaking, taking in a shuddering breath, Danny nodded, “Did it help you? Does it?”

“Haven’t snapped yet, have I?” Steve grinned, hoping it wasn’t too soon to joke about it. 

The eyebrow quirked in his direction was one replete with ‘You sure about that?’. Dropping his head and clutching his hair with his hands, Danny stared at the deck, his voice almost lost, “I know I gotta give it time, Stephen, I do. But shit if every time I close my eyes, I’m not back in that damn chair and that bastard is breathing down my neck.”

Knowing full well that the touch would startle him, wanting to snap Danny out of that ‘moment’, Steve reached out and gently grabbed his shoulder. It was unavoidable that he would touch a cut or two, so Steve kept it feather light. Sure enough, Danny’s head snapped up, nostrils flaring, eyes wide and Steve said firmly, “When it happens, you gotta hold on to the now – to being out. And it will get better, with time, I promise. But it’s gonna to rough for a while too.”

Danny rolled his eyes like he’d heard it all and knew it all. Probably did. But knowing was different from being and enduring. “So, no quick Seal fix, huh?”

Steve shrugged, “Well, nothing that’s conducive to continuing mental health or shrink approved.” 

For a second Danny grinned but only a second. The fleeting moment of ‘rightness’ faded and Danny sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it, Steve. Not to you, not to a shrink, not to anyone. How messed up is that? Half of the time I can’t shut up and now…”

“Half of the time?” Steve poked Danny’s shoulder and grinned. “Dude, this is the perfect opportunity to rant like the pro you are.”

Danny huffed in agreement but it was tinged with depression. “Hey,” Steve nudged Danny, trying to catch his eye as he looked away. “Just pretend I’ve done something stupid and before you know it, the shrink will be begging you to stop. Just like me.”

Another bitten off huff, choked with emotion and Danny turned away, his hands shaking, lips trembling, trying to hide, taking deep breaths to calm down. “Shit, Steve, I…” The tears fell, first one, then two, and Danny swiped them away, embarrassed and angry. “Shit, shit… damn stupid.”

Steve closed the distance between them, kept his arm low across the lower half of Danny’s back and enveloped him in a warm, but gentle hug. Danny didn’t return it, but collapsed onto his knees, hands pressed over his eyes, choking back the sobs. Uncaring of the burn in his thighs and ache in his knees, Steve stayed crouched in the protective embrace, while Danny fought to get control again. Williams’ spine, long and bony dug into Steve’s forearm, and his bicep was getting wet from the overflow of tears. 

Abruptly, Danny shoved him away – not hard, but firm and Steve sank back onto the seat. Sniffing and wiping his nose and eyes, Danny coughed, “Shit, don’t even know why in the hell I’m crying. Enough!”

Reaching out, Steve grasped the back of Danny’s neck, fingers buried in his hair and said softly, “It hasn’t even been a week, Danno, I…”

The long, clear notes of _House of the Rising Sun_ broke the moment and Steve cursed, fumbling for his phone. “Sorry, sorry.”

Danny coughed and laughed, “Nice, Stephen.”

But when Steve saw the caller ID, he grinned and answered the call. 

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

The bar on a dingy side road in the middle of Bangkok was pumping, loud music blaring from massive speakers, the press of people dense and turbulent. The backroom however was an island of silence in comparison – for two very different reasons.

Reason one – it was the location of a high stakes poker game. Texas Hold’em with more on the table than just cash.

Sergent, known by many names in many countries had been using the game as a source of cash and a potential job. Unfortunately for him, Reason Two was now pointing a gun at his head.

“Keep your hands on the table, Sergent. You blink and I’ll shoot.”

Sergent didn’t bother to nod, but he didn’t move either. The fool had overplayed his hand, revealing himself now, in the middle of the game. There was no way he’d be able to extract him from the bar, not with all the variables a crowd gave you. 

Watching the Agent (of course he was an Agent of some agency) pull out his phone, Sergent waited for his chance. 

“G. Yeah, ready to go. 5. Got it.”

The Agent slowly stood and motioned for Sergent to do the same. Snapping at their host, the Agent barked, “Koa. Open up the hatch. You, on your knees.”

Reluctantly, Sergent complied, dropping to his knees, raising his hands.  He planned on turning the tables on this moron the second he tried to cuff him. A rush of night time air drew his eyes upward and Sergent saw a hatch opening in the roof. A figure dressed in black instantly dropped down a line and slid down into the room. Momentarily caught off guard, Sergent lost his moment when the black clad individual pulled his arms back and slid plastic ties around his wrists.

A black bag was flipped over his head and then a belt tied around his waist. Within a minute, Sergent was whisked up into the air, heading for the chopper he could hear overhead. Relaxing for now, Sergent bided his time, and let the Agents manhandle him into the helicopter.

On the roof, the man in black pulled up his balaclava to yell at the Agent, “Good to go.”

Nodding, the Agent shouted, “I’ll meet you back at base.”

With that the chopper and the black clad man flew off, leaving the Agent on the roof. Closing the hatch and waving at Koa, the Agent thumbed his phone and hit speed dial.

While it rang, he scanned the surroundings, checking for any witnesses. As the call picked up, Sam grinned, “Hey, Mac. Got good news. Bagged and tagged. On its way to LA.”

On the other end, Hanna heard the small whoop and smiled. _‘Sam, you beaut. I owe you big._ ’

“Nah,” Sam shrugged, “No one messes with a SEAL’s team. No one.”

_ “I know, but still… you call if you need anything, Sam. Anything.” _

Hanna nodded, “Yeah, I know. Later Mac.”

Pleased with a mission well done, Sam scrambled down the fire-escape and jogged through the busy streets, heading for the extraction point.

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

Danny stared at Steve, at his massive grin and animated expression. The whoop had brought everyone else out on deck, Grace hidden behind her mother.  It was obviously good news, but Danny couldn’t bring himself to care, even if hope was tickling the edges of his brain.

Steve ended the call and grabbed Danny’s shoulder, eyes bright. “We got him Danno. We got the SOB! He’s on his way to LA as we speak.”

At first the news was nonsense, a pin-drop in the ocean of raw emotion surging through him. But as Danny watched Steve’s expression, actually heard his words, something raging and roaring inside him suddenly… died. Just stopped, dead still. 

“The… the bastard who had me?”

Steve’s grin was wide enough to spilt his face in half. “Yeah, that bastard. Got him. NCIS have him in custody.”

Blinking Danny felt himself smile, copying Steve but his heart seemed to be two steps behind. Chin and Kono though were whooping and high-fiving. Grace was suddenly at his shoulder and it was automatic to pull her onto his lap, hug her close, tight and safe. Chin shoved a beer under his nose and shit, Danny took it, painkillers be damned. 

There was a lot of talking, and Steve was explaining or bragging or damn, elucidating, and Danny let is all wash over him. Rachel was beaming, her eyes wet. Everyone was smiling. Even Grace, who looked a little confused.

“Danno.”

Danny blinked and brought what he could of his attention to his daughter, using the newly found silence to listen. “Is the bad guy dead?”

“No, Monkey. But he’s going to go to prison, for a long time, promise.”

 Grace seemed a little put out about that and Danny wondered if his little girl was turning into a blood thirsty savage thanks to Steve McGarrett. Instead though, she touched his face, hands feathers and love and soft wishes, “You promised you’d come.”

Danny’s heart cracked just a little bit more and he swallowed, “I know, Monkey. I know. Steve came though, right?”

A little nod, a little sigh, because yes, Uncle Steve came, but Uncle Steve wasn’t Danno. So, Danny pulled his little girl closer and said quietly in her ear, “That’s the great thing about family, kiddo. You can trust ‘em to be there for you, even when you can’t. And they’re what makes a place home, ok? And keep the walls from closing in.”

Grace nodded, her head under his chin. Danny watched his friends, his family for a moment, as they talked and celebrated and said softly, more for himself than Grace, “They keep the darkness away.”

Feeling Danny’s gaze, Steve turned and tipped his bottle of beer in a salute. Danny smiled, wide and genuine and saluted him back. 

*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0

Fin

Final AN:

The title for this fic was taken from Aking’s _Safe as Houses_. 

Thank you one and all for sticking with this fic as it dragged out. I promise myself every WIP never to post a WIP again, and yet, find myself hopelessly drawn to the inherent deadline. So thank you for your patience. 

I snuck the NCIS LA crossover in because H-50 did it as well, and I thought it fit. And after watching the recent Danny-centric episode in season 2, I felt this was a good precursor to the nightmare that that situation was for Danny. Here’s hoping for more Danny-episodes. Heck, here’s for more h/c episodes in general!  J

As ever your feedback is appreciated and helps keeps the bunnies at bay. Ok, that’s a lie, the bunnies LOVE feedback as well.  J

And thanks to sherry57 for her awesome beta-reading skills

  



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